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meowmeow-motherfucker · 11 months ago

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Covenant- Chapter 6

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Word count: 11k, get your drinks and snackies, friends

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me! Buckle up gang :D

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727

Ten days until the wedding

Loki had a problem. A flock of small, garishly colored problems. He stared at the collection of minuscule fake ducks with confusion. He didn’t know what to do with them. The miniature ducks were painted with odd clothing and hats, some with spectacles over their beady false eyes.

The smallest ducks had no clothes, but were a variety of vivid colors and he always found them secreted somewhere on his person. The oddly dressed ones were slightly larger and arrived via parcel, always outside his chamber door when Astrid arrived each morning. The guard swore to Odin he possessed no knowledge of how the parcel got there or who delivered it.

Every day he seemed to gain a new one- each one more odd than the last. The first, bearing an obnoxiously cheerful grin, bore blue-tinted spectacles and a large shirt with colorful flowers. The second wore a smooth rounded helmet and some sort of...fabric...suit with stripes? One of its tiny wings clutched a long thin bat.

Still others were painted with even more ridiculous outfits: a white suit, silver medallion necklace and a puff of hair like a cloud; a brown vest, a red neckerchief, a badge that read ‘sheriff’ and a large brown hat.

His most recent acquisition, wore a Viksø helmet with a long braid coming from underneath, and oversized chest armor as though the duck had been blessed with large breasts.

They were not of Asgardian origin, that much was clear. Obviously Claire was sneaking them onto his person for him to later find when he undressed.

What he couldn’t figure out was how. Loki prided himself on possessing the utmost skill in stealth, being able to read others, being one step ahead of everyone at all times. Yet when he looked back on his interactions with Claire he could not pinpoint a single moment where she might have slipped the ducks onto his person. Obviously, the first duck had been secreted under his vambrace during the play. He’d never caught her in the act; always discovering the evidence of her trickery hours later in his chambers.

Sneaky little mortal.

There was of course, the question of why. What purpose could these grotesque little creatures have? They were soft and easily malformed, they made only the most pitiful squeaks when he squeezed them tightly in his fist. Were they toys? Did she think him a child? Perhaps she thought to occupy his mind at all times; keeping him consumed in the mystery. She had certainly succeeded; he was enthralled.

Perhaps they were part of courtship on Midgard? Loki eyed the newest duck skeptically, as though if he stared at it hard enough the duck would give in and reveal its true purpose. It made sense, he supposed. After all, wasn’t gift-giving part of wooing one’s partner?

But ducks?

~~~~

“You want me to go back to Earth...for this?” Phil asked skeptically, peering over the scrap of paper at Claire.

“Yep.” Claire had a free morning, and was soaking up the sun on her plush couch with one of the books Loki had purchased for her. She felt oddly energized after her private lesson with him, and felt better prepared to tackle princess lessons anew come the afternoon.

“Just this?” Phil pressed.

“Yep.” Claire repeated, turning the page of her book. She’d chosen an account of a forbidden love affair between a nobleman and his servant, and so far, the suspenseful account had sex, betrayal, and even a grisly murder. The crones would be aghast.

“And you want a Monopoly set...why?”

“Are you questioning the future princess royal of Asgard?” Claire asked, her voice heavy with scandal. She looked up at Phil with a cheeky grin.

“I would never,” Phil scoffed. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Claire laughed at his terrible attempt at a curtsy.

“Shut up,” Claire set aside her book. “If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to. It was just a thought.”

“If it will make you happy, I’ll do it. Any other requests?”

“Actually...yes, let me write it down,” Claire crossed the room to the desk, adding a few more things to her list. “That’s everything.”

“What is-” Phil laughed as he read the list. “Googly eyes, itching powder, silly string, an airhorn? Are you pranking Loki again?”

“I would never,” Claire gasped. “I’m just thinking it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“For what, your new clown act?”

“I’m calling it insurance,” Claire replied. “I have no need to prank anyone right now, but it never hurts-”

“Alright, alright, the less I know, the better,” Phil stopped her short. “I’m gonna go and get your...provisions,” He knew Claire wouldn’t ask for the items if she didn’t need them, but he wondered what she could possibly need them for. “I should be back before dinner.”

“Okay, be safe. OH WAIT!”

“What?!”

“Chocolate,” Phil nodded, turning to leave. “Phil! Chocolate!”

“I got it, I got it. I won’t forget your chocolate.” Phil promised before he finally left. Claire returned to her book after Phil left, hoping to finish her chapter before the mid-day meal.

~~~~

Claire’s first appointment of the afternoon was with a florist, and it was easily Claire’s favorite activity so far. She would have spent the rest of the day exploring the palace gardens if she could have- wandering through the lilacs, tulips, and roses was peaceful and aromatic. After some tough decisions, Claire picked the flowers she wanted for the wedding.

The first princess lesson of the afternoon went much better than it had in the past. Claire’s instructor was thrilled by her progress, and advanced her to a more intermediate level of study. Claire was equally pleased and annoyed. No doubt the new material would be more difficult, and Claire didn’t like the idea of relying on Loki for everything. Claire was given a fancy lace and ivory fan and instructed to memorize how to communicate with it. She spent an hour learning how best to express emotions with a fan, which made absolutely no sense to Claire. If she was feeling something, she’d prefer to say it to someone’s face rather than hint at it with a flimsy bit of fabric.

She’d hoped to escape without a jab at her ‘poor posture’, but to her annoyance, her instructor reprimanded her yet again.

To add to her frustration, she was still being forced to learn how to sew. Claire spent an hour making stitches and fixing them, making and fixing, making and fixing. By the end of the lesson, she wanted to stab her instructor in the eyes.

~~~~

“What even is deportment anyway?” Claire sulked in her chambers later that evening. True to his word, Loki had made another appearance in her chambers. He had offered to help her with her fan homework, but Claire needed to vent first, so they had taken up spots on the couch with their snacks in the middle to share. Tonight Loki had brought an assortment of fresh fruit, cheese and bread. “I know how to carry myself just fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Loki asked skeptically. “You walk like a man.”

“I do not,” Claire protested. “Just because I don’t float like some simpering little rich girl, you think I walk like a man?” she tossed a cherry into her mouth, stem and all.

“You do!”

“Prove it.” Claire challenged around her mouthful of cherry.

“What?” Loki balked.

“I don’t believe it. Show me.”

“Fine,” Loki sighed, getting to his feet and spinning on his heel. He held his arms out as he spun. “Notice that I am standing up straight?” He walked to the fireplace before walking back. “I have good posture. You, on the other hand-” a wave of green flashed over his form and suddenly Claire was looking at herself. “Stand like this.” Loki hunched over in an exaggerated slump, taking another lap to the fireplace.

“I don’t stand like that,” Claire protested. “You’re a terrible actor.”

“Forgive me, what am I thinking; I’m not spouting profanity at every possible opportunity.”

“I do not-”

“You do!” Loki-Claire cried. “You also stomp about angrily like a bear,” another lap with exaggerated, angry stomps. “But if you simply stand up straight, drop your shoulders, keep your chin high, and walk as though you are following a straight line, you will- as you put it- float.” Another wave of green and Loki was taking his spot on the couch again.

“Yeah well, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery so there.” Claire stuck her tongue out at him, showing off the half-twisted cherry stem in her mouth.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked.

“Oh, I’m tying the cherry stem into a knot.”

“What? Why?” Claire showed off her hard work, giggling as Loki inspected the knotted cherry stem with confusion.

“Because I can.”

“Is this a common skill for Midgardians?”

“This is definitely a hidden skill,” Claire replied, setting the stem on the tray between them. “It’s kind of accepted fact that people who can tie cherry stems into knots with their tongues are good kissers, but I don’t think any actual scientific study has proven that.”

“What an odd belief,” Loki chuckled. “Is there any validity to it for you specifically?” his gaze dropped to her mouth, sending Claire’s internal temperature skyrocketing. She bit her lip, the familiar tingling of anticipation budding in her belly.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?” she asked teasingly. “Will you teach me about the dumb fans please, so I can go back to reading my book?”

“Perhaps this venture will not be so terrible after all,” Loki chuckled to himself. “If I didn’t know better,” he plucked a fan from the couch, snapping it open emphatically. “I’d say you weren’t interested in princess lessons.”

“I’m only as interested as I need to be to shut my instructors up.”

“Then pay attention,” Loki twirled one of the fans, opening the second before flipping them in his hands. “If it helps- think of them as weapons. They are balanced just as a blade would be.”

“Yeah, because people will tremble in fear at my skills with a fan,” Claire rolled her eyes. “It’s not exactly a deadly weapon.”

“Just like any skill, darling; with enough practice it can be,” Loki replied. “Learn the rules and learn them well, and with intelligence and patience-” he closed one of the fans, flipping it in his hand so she could grab the handle. “You can bring anyone to their knees.”

~~~~

Seven days until the wedding

With one week remaining until their wedding, Claire and Loki met Frigga outside the throne room right after breakfast. Their night time visits had continued, with Loki assisting Claire master her lessons as well as spending time getting to know each other. It was thrilling, keeping their night time visits secret, almost

“Today we shall rehearse the ceremony!” Frigga announced as she clapped her hands together excitedly. Claire thought it was too early for her to be so enthusiastic, and the grumpy look on Loki’s face told her he agreed. “Loki, you must at least try to seem excited.” she scolded gently.

“Of course mother, what was I thinking,” Loki said flatly, plastering an obviously fake smile on his face. “What a lovely day to celebrate! My entire life is being upheaved in a farcical-ouch!” he complained when Frigga slapped the back of his head. Claire felt zero sympathy for him as he rubbed the spot his mother had struck. That’s not what you said last night, asshole.

“My life is being upheaved too- just throwing that out there.” She muttered grumpily from behind him. Loki’s head fell back against his shoulders, a ragged sigh of exhaustion escaping him.

“I am aware. Everyone in a ten mile radius is aware. You needn’t remind me.”

“Well I’d hate for you to forget. I’m nice like that.” Loki let out an uncharacteristic snort.

“Is this to be a day for incorrect adjectives as well as vexing activities?” he asked scathingly. “For shame, little mortal. Marriages are not meant to be built on lies.”

“You’re the expert.” Claire replied with a shrug.

“Perhaps you’d like to choose a different word?” Loki looked down at her, a perfectly arched eyebrow poised in anticipation.

“Annoyed.” Loki grinned with satisfaction. Frigga clapped her hands to gain their attention, reminding them both she was still there.

“Focus, darlings, you both have a great deal of appointments today and we must be punctual,” she chided. “Now, the decorations are not complete so you will need to use your imaginations- but we will run through the procession so there are no hiccups.” she made a quick gesture with her hand and the guards flanking the doors pulled them open.

“Oh,” Claire said softly, glancing about the cavernous room. Chairs had been aligned into rows, with bows of soft green and purple chiffon ribbon attached to the ends. Tall stands for flowers were in place but looked naked without the flora. “It looks lovely.” She offered, not wanting her future mother-in-law to think she didn’t appreciate her efforts.

“I’m so pleased you think so,” Frigga smiled warmly. “The decorations will be finished by tonight. Purple blaveis, as you requested, with some white lodnerublom to round out the arrangements. Now, it is custom that married women wear their hair bound in some way. Once the ceremony is complete, Loki will bind your hair before you leave the throne room.” She explained.

“And I shall give you the ugliest braid ever.” Loki threatened gravely.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Frigga chastised him before Claire could even open her mouth. “Any shame you put on her will reflect on you.”

“I’m aware, Mother.” Loki sighed heavily, rolling his eyes behind her back.

“Good. Remember that. You can practice while I speak to the servants about the flowers.” Frigga turned away and left the two alone for the second time since their meeting.

“Come, this way,” Loki offered his hand politely to Claire. She accepted his hand and let him guide her to a chair. He stood behind the chair and held it in place while she sat. “Do you have a preference?”

“Not really,” Claire replied as Loki’s long fingers began combing through her hair, deftly gathering the strands to make a braid. “You were kidding about the ugly part right?” she asked as he began sectioning off her hair.

“Perhaps,” Loki teased. “Even if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to remove it without causing a stir.”

“Of course not. Wouldn’t want to offend someone with my hair style,” Claire quipped, hissing when Loki’s finger got tangled in her hair and pulled it. He said nothing, only soothing her scalp with his probing fingers as he worked quickly. He was already finished with the first section and had started gathering the other half of her hair in his hands to section and braid. “You’re good at that.” Claire complimented as he began braiding, pulling her hair tight to make it clean. She wasn’t surprised to find she enjoyed the feeling of his hands in her hair.

“I’ve always been good with my hands,” Loki replied softly, putting both braids together at the back of her head. “All finished,” he announced. “Normally this would be tied with a band, but for now I’ve bound it with seidr instead.”

“That’s probably better. That way it won’t come loose or fall out.” Claire replied, reaching up to glide her fingertips along the braid.

“Indeed,” Loki hummed, manifesting a small mirror for her with a wave of his hands. “Here.” He held it up for her to look into.

“Thank you,” she flashed him a smile, to which he gave a feeble return. “This looks lovely,” She praised, combing her fingers through the hair he’d left loose. The thin braids started at her temples, gently sloping down to where they met at the back of her head. It almost looked like a halo, and Claire loved it. “Could you do it like this? Please?”

“Of course.” Loki agreed, making the mirror vanish. “I’ll need to let that out before we leave,” He reminded her as she got to her feet. “Let me see the front first.” Claire turned to face him, giving a shy smile as their eyes met. Loki gave another clipped smile in return, raising his hands to inspect the braid’s appearance.

“How do I look?” Claire asked as he smoothed her hair. He gave a small snort as he adjusted the hair at her temples.

“You look…” Beautiful. She was a vision, her lips full and luscious beneath the soft lavender lip paint she wore. With mere inches between them, he could easily lean down and taste her at last- finally claim her as his as the braid proclaimed her to be. “As if you belong.” he finally murmured.

“Thank you,” her lavender lips curled into a cheeky grin as she gazed up at him. “Was that so difficult to say?”

“I’m truly suffering from the indignity.” Loki said placidly.

“Oh dear, however will you survive?” Claire returned sarcastically.

“That remains to be seen,” Loki sighed aloofly. “Turn please, so I can undo your braid.”

“Fine,” Claire said, turning her back to him and waiting patiently as he unwove the braids and combed his fingers through her hair to straighten it. “Thank you.” Loki hummed his reply as Frigga returned.

“All finished?” she asked. When the engaged couple nodded in unison, she smiled. “Excellent. Shall we rehearse?”

“If we must.” Loki sighed. Claire shot him a glare and Frigga stepped in to diffuse the tension before they could begin to argue.

“Don’t be rude Loki, it simply isn’t the correct way to address your fiancé.”

“I wasn’t speaking to her.”

“To me then. You know better,” Frigga scolded. “Off you go, to your place.” She ordered, giving Loki a small push toward the grand stairs in front of the throne.

“I’m assuming I’ll be walking down the aisle.”

“Correct. Your uncle will escort you but for now we will pretend,” Frigga replied, offering Claire her arm. Claire looped her arm around hers and Frigga guided her toward the aisle. “Once you reach the stairs, he will hand you off like so.” She released Claire to allow her to take Loki’s outstretched hand. Loki entwined their fingers, as was expected, and Frigga walked up the stairs to stand a few steps above them. “Odin will oversee the ceremony from here. Thor will stand at Loki’s side, and Sif at yours. They will be responsible for holding your swords and rings both before and after they are exchanged.”

“Got it.”

“It is very, very important that you or Loki do not drop the swords or rings. To do so would cast a great pall upon the marriage and the alliance by default.”

“No pressure or anything.” Claire muttered to herself.

“You will do fine dear,” Frigga assured her. “Once you have exchanged swords and rings, the Gothi will bind your hands and guide you through exchanging your vows.”

“The Gothi?”

“Our spiritual leader,” Frigga explained. “On your wedding day, he will bless you both at the start of the ceremony. Once the ceremony is finished and Loki has bound your hair you will proceed back up the aisle to the balcony where we will officially present you to the people. After that is the celebratory feast, followed by a second feast the following morning and the presentation of gifts.”

“Sounds easy enough, assuming no one drops anything.”

“There will be opportunity for you each to practice prior to the actual ceremony,” Frigga said comfortingly. “Do you have any questions?”

“No, everything makes sense.”

“Wonderful. We will do another practice closer to the ceremony but I must dismiss you both now. Loki, you are due at the tailor. Claire, you have lessons to get to. You and I shall go to the marketplace later this afternoon.” Frigga winked at Claire behind Loki’s back, which Claire found amusing. What could Frigga be planning?

“Thank you mother,” Loki nodded politely to Frigga before lifting Claire’s hand to his lips. “My lady.” he kissed her knuckles, his gaze smoldering as Claire’s innards fizzled. Barely containing her satisfied smile, Frigga walked down the stairs ahead of them. Loki helped her down the stairs, clutching her hand the entire time.

Ahead of them, Frigga was chattering about their respective agendas for the rest of the day.

“Are you nervous?” Loki asked softly.

“A little. I’m kinda worried I’ll drop something.” Claire admitted. Loki’s gaze softened as he squeezed her hand.

“It will be alright,” he promised. “There is nothing you could do that would bring more shame on me that I haven’t done myself.” Claire’s heart dropped and she clasped his hand tighter.

“Loki-”

“I must go. Enjoy your day, my lady.”

“See you tonight?” Claire asked softly. Loki seemed surprised by her question, his eyes going wide as his dark brows shot up. The corners of his mouth turned up after a beat, and Claire swore she saw the tips of his ears turn pink. He nodded, dropping her hand before walking out of the throne room.

~~~~

Claire waited on pins and needles for Loki to arrive. She’d already added more notes to her folder and hidden it away again. She’d had a busy day of lessons and espionage, having broken into Fandral’s quarters earlier in the afternoon while everyone was at tea.

When she’d been dismissed from her last lesson early...the opportunity couldn’t have been better if she’d engineered it herself. It had been ridiculously easy to get access to Fandral’s apartment. Not one person had questioned why she was there- they’d simply said he was out and would return soon, did she want to wait?

Yes, yes she did! But she was so thirsty, could someone bring her a drink?

Fandral’s chamber maid had practically fallen over herself to fulfill the future princess’ request, leaving Claire alone in Fandral’s apartment without a second thought.

Once alone, Claire had found Fandral’s ‘love nest’, as he called it, and got to work. The itching powder had found new lodgings in his trousers and undergarments, though Claire did her best to avoid touching them too much. Who knew what Fandral got up to; she was not about to catch space cooties over a prank. All Claire knew was that he’d systematically fucked his way through her staff, and only Ragna had yet to fall prey to his advances.

She didn’t fault her staff- far from it. If both parties consented, Claire couldn’t give a fuck what people got up to. It was Fandral’s gloating that she hated. His chest seemed to puff up more with each conquest, and he’d strut about the palace like a proud rooster.

That will take him down a peg or two. Claire cackled to herself as she slipped back out of Fandral’s apartment. She did feel a slight twinge of guilt for misleading his chamber maid, but as luck would have it, she’d crossed her path as she was leaving.

“Oh! Your Majesty!” the woman had curtsied. “Your drink-?”

“I’ve got to go, unfortunately- can’t say no to the queen! But why don’t you take some time for yourself and enjoy it?” Claire suggested. “In fact, I’ve left a surprise in your master’s chambers. I’d hate to spoil it for him, so don’t say anything to him, will you please?”

Claire had made off without waiting for the woman to respond, blending seamlessly into the crowd outside the council chambers only to be confronted by Yrsa.

She and the other young ladies of court had descended on Claire like a pack of wolves, the ever-present sour look on Yrsa’s face making her look constipated.

“Dear me, Lady Claire, where is your escort?” Yrsa asked with false concern.

“I don’t need an escort to walk down the hall.”

“You really ought to be more careful.” Yrsa chided from behind her fan.

“Excuse me?”

“I only mean that there are already rumors about you,” Yrsa gave her a simpering smile. “About your virtue...or perhaps lack of it.”

“Are you trying to threaten me, Yrsa?” Claire asked. “You think I care what people have to say about me?”

“I simply wish to give advice-”

“Because I don't really care what any of you think about me. So let me give you some advice-if you're going to threaten someone, make sure you have leverage.” the other young ladies behind Yrsa had broken into frenzied whispers behind their fans, the gleeful promise of scandal written on their faces. Yrsa closed her fan with a snap

“It's beyond fathoming that the Allfather would wed his son to a diseased whore-”

“It hurts, doesn't it? Being second rate to a diseased whore like me.” Claire grinned as Yrsa's face turned splotchy red with anger.

“How dare you-”

“Careful Yrsa,” Claire replied flatly. “I could break you in half and not blink twice.”

Now, as Claire waited for Loki to make his nightly appearance, she wondered if she’d overstepped. Obviously she wanted to curb stomp Yrsa into the dirt, but she probably shouldn’t have been so obvious about it.

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and Claire rushed to answer it. As expected, the now familiar maid stood outside beside Gunnar, bearing the usual tray. Claire let her inside, waving to Gunnar as she closed the door.

“You are entirely too familiar with your guard.” Loki muttered as he set the tray on the table.

“Oh stop it,” Claire rolled her eyes as she sat beside him on the couch. Loki had stopped asking permission to sit, which she took as a sign of their growing intimacy. “Gunnar’s nice.”

“Is he now?”

“Yes, he is. Is that really what you want to talk about tonight?” Claire asked sharply. Loki grunted, sinking back into the couch cushions.

“No. I’d rather ask how princess lessons are going.” Loki knocked his knee against hers.

“They’re fine, I guess. I still hate sewing,” Claire replied as she turned to face him. “Hey, what was all the hubbub in the council meeting today? I stopped by but there was a huge crowd.”

“There was a rather heated debate today; I imagine that is why. We were discussing a new tax policy that would increase taxes on our poorest citizens.”

“That seems counter intuitive.”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? But of course, many of the council members are short-sighted and see only what they want to see. They didn’t enjoy being told that their idea was stupid.”

“Is that why everyone was so upset?”

“I imagine,” Loki grinned. “I told you there isn’t much you can do to shame me that I haven’t already done myself,” Claire felt like there was more to it than that- people here didn’t just dislike Loki, they hated him. What Claire couldn’t figure out was why. Sure the guy had done some bad things and he was the kind of the kind of person others loved to hate, but there was something else. Something she wasn’t seeing. “Shall we review your lessons?” he asked, unveiling the snacks he’d brought along with him. A bowl of almonds, pillowy rolls and fluffy butter, and decadent candied fruit that glistened in the flickering light from the fire. Claire reached for a handful of almonds, but Loki pulled the treats just out of reach.

“Hey, what gives?”

“If you want a snack, you will answer my questions correctly,” Loki proposed, grinning when Claire scoffed. “First question...”

They passed several hours together, Loki rewarding her with the succulent treats each time she answered him correctly. When Loki was satisfied, they fell into easy conversation, discussing philosophy, and their hobbies.

Claire had just polished off the last of the candied fruit when Loki sighed and sat up.

“I should go. You need to rest.”

“I’m not tired.” Claire said stubbornly.

“You say that now, but you will likely think different in the morning,” Loki chuckled as he got to his feet. Claire stood up with him, wishing he didn’t have to go. Loki smiled at her, his thumb coming up to wipe her bottom lip clean. He brought the digit to his mouth to suck it clean, spurring a blaze of heat between her thighs. “Sleep well.” his gaze lingered on her lips for a heated moment, before a wave of green enveloped him and the maid stood in his place. She left without another word, leaving Claire alone to her frustration.

Five days until the wedding

Claire slipped out of the palace into the cool morning air, dodging the guards and making for the marketplace. The sun was just beginning to rise and the market was blissfully empty, so Claire was free to run as long and hard as she wanted.

She did a full circuit of the market and was just turning back toward the palace when she rounded a corner and hit a brick wall.

“Ow, son of a bitch!” Claire cried as she landed on the hard ground.

“I beg your pardon?” A familiar voice scoffed above her. Of course.

“Just an expression,” she groaned, taking the hand her offered and getting to her feet. She massaged her throbbing shoulder with her left hand, wincing as the pain radiated down her arm. “Sorry for running into you.”

“It's no matter,” Loki said. “Are you hurt?”

“Just scraped up, I think. Why are you up so early?”

“I wanted some peace and quiet,” Loki said pointedly. “Why are you up so early? Where in Hel’s name is your escort?”

“Somewhere inside the palace I'd imagine.”

“You shouldn't be alone-”

“Dude it's fine I can handle myself.” Claire said sharply as she began to dust off her leggings.

“Clearly,” Loki rolled his eyes, his next question dying on his tongue as she brushed off the seat of her tight pants. “What are you wearing?” He managed to ask as his eyes trailed after the motion of her hand along the contours of her backside. The material was so tight it was indecent, molded to her sculpted thighs and rump like a second skin.

“Um...leggings?” Claire replied.

“Are these...” Loki seemed to fumble for his words. “Are these typical garb on Midgard?”

“For some. They're flexible and breathe well. And they're soft. Wanna feel?” Claire couldn't help but tease the man, well aware he'd been staring at her ass. His eyes darted up to hers, the sheer desire in his gaze slamming into her.

“I shouldn't,” his hands fisting at his sides even as he denied himself. He gave her another heated once over, making her pussy clench. Claire knew the leggings were tight, and absently wondered if Loki could see the effect he had on her. “We should- we should find your escort and get you to the healer.”

“So responsible,” Claire tsked, shaking her head. “Okay, your loss.”

“We are less than a week away from our nuptials, my lady, I think I shall survive,” Loki didn't sound as convinced as he wanted to. Claire eyed him skeptically, seeing right through him. “Who gave you permission to be out this early?”

“No one said I couldn't be,” Claire shrugged. “I wanted to go for a run, so I did.”

“Indeed,” Loki hummed in amusement. “Off with you,” he jutted his chin toward the palace. “I will follow behind to make sure you find your escort.”

“You just want to stare at my ass.” Claire argued, making him laugh.

“Perhaps,” Loki’s tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip as his gaze traveled down her body. Gods, how supple would her flesh be if he reached out to touch her? He met her eyes at last, finding her watching him expectantly. “Do you object?” Claire shook her head.

“No, no, just pointing it out,” she grinned, turning toward the palace to walk back. “Look all you want.” Gods, the view was even better from behind. The material favored her exceptionally, so much so that he could watch every delectable inch of skin and sinew move as she walked ahead of him. The early morning sun caught on her hair, pairing with the mist to give her an ethereal glow. With each stride her hair bounced, the strands falling just past her shoulders and occasionally allowing him to see the muscles in her athletic frame. Loki was not used to seeing defined muscles on a woman’s body- most women he’d met were soft and strong (except for Sif, who he had never found attractive)- but he was quickly learning he enjoyed it. She was going to be the death of him.

Loki cursed as he tripped over a loose rock and briefly lost his footing.

“Doing okay back there?” Claire glanced back knowingly.

“I’m fine.” Based on the laughter Loki could hear from ahead, he did not sound convincing.

Just as he’d suspected, Claire’s frantic chamber maid awaited them at the gate. Loki watched Claire and her maid disappear into the palace before he stepped inside himself, going a different direction from them to his chambers. It was the smart thing to do, he told himself, but it was the opposite of what he wanted.

It was torture, quite frankly, and her absence only aggravated him more. Loki was loathe to reduce Claire to a sexual object, as he’d been taught far better; but it was proving difficult. Annoying she may be, but his future wife was a point of fascination he wanted to explore exhaustively. His cock throbbed angrily in agreement, and Loki’s scowl deepened. He was so looking forward to a form of release that didn’t involve his hand- his head swam with visions of Claire in those leggings. The delectable, pert roundness of her backside, the thick muscles of her thighs that practically begged for the squeeze of his hands.

Gods, he’d never seen such a garment. How is it possible she could be completely covered and yet so obscenely bare? Loki stalked into his chambers, angrily making his way to his bed as he stripped off his clothes.

He regretted not taking her up on her offer to feel. He had seen the curves of her figure, seen glimpses of her build, felt the pressure of her thighs against his. He wanted more. He should have taken the chance when offered it.

A choked groan escaped him as his fingers wrapped around his cock. Red and angry, the heated flesh demanded satisfaction; the throb of desire already setting him ablaze from within.

His thumb circled the head of his cock, making him hiss. Already he could imagine Claire on her knees for him, her hands bracing on the meat of his thighs as she lavished his cock with attention. Would she be playful, driving him mad with kitten licks until he begged for mercy? Or would she take him in his entirety, wrapping him between those enchanting lips of hers? Gods, he could practically feel the heat of her mouth now.

He worked himself faster as he thought of her naked and waiting. What sounds would she make as he licked her open? Would she beg him for release? Cry out as he slipped inside her velvety walls? He couldn’t wait to make her fall apart; to feel her nails dig into his flesh as he finally marked her as his.

Loki gave a shout as he spilled his seed, the pleasure driving him to his knees. His fingers clawed the lavish bed covers as he slowed the pumping of his hand, drawing out his pleasure. He tightened his grip, spilling the last drops of his seed with a final groan.

His legs felt weak as he tried to stand. Loki forced himself up, getting rid of the mess he’d made with his seidr before retrieving clean clothes from his armoire. Loki freshened up, dressing in the clean clothes and setting the soiled ones aside.

With his head finally clear- well...clearer- Loki sought out his mother.

~~~~

“Loki!” Frigga brightened as he stalked into her sun room, full of her handmaidens as well as some of the crones who chaperoned his and Claire’s excursions. “I did not expect to see you today. How do you fare?”

“Fine,” he said shortly. “May I have a moment please?”

“Leave us,” Frigga said immediately, waiting for the room to clear before she got to her feet and went to him. “What is it?”

“She is driving me mad.” Loki sank into a freshly-vacant chair with all the heaviness of the world upon him.

“I thought you were getting along quite well.”

“It is not that,” Loki shook his head. “I cannot stop thinking about her.”

“Oh, darling, is that all?” Frigga burst into a peal of laughter. “That is a good thing!” Loki groaned, his head falling into his hands as Frigga patted his shoulder consolingly. “Be patient, my darling. Your wedding day will be here before you know it.”

“If I don’t lose my mind first,” Loki groused from behind his hands. “Moreso than I already have.”

“Would it please you to know your bride shares your frustration?” Loki looked at her between his fingers.

“She does?” he asked skeptically.

“Is it so hard to believe?” Frigga chuckled. “You are handsome, intelligent-”

“Damaged,” Loki grimaced. “A stain upon this family.”

“That is simply not true.” Loki shot to his feet in anger.

“It is what Fath- Odin said. I am but an albatross about the neck of Asgard.”

“It is true that your strengths do not lie in the same realms as Odin or Thor, but that does not make your strengths any lesser,” Frigga said gently. “Both you and Claire will be vital to guiding Asgard into the future.” Loki looked up in surprise, confusion clear on his face.

“What do you mean? How could that possibly be true?” he scoffed. “Have you foreseen this?”

“Loki-”

“Have you?”

“I have,” Frigga relented. “I saw it the day she arrived,” she glanced down, a secretive smile gracing her features. “But I shall say no more,” she wrapped Loki’s arm around hers, giving a gentle tug. “Instead, you shall escort me to an early tea, and I shall distract you by telling you about my courtship with your father.”

“Ugh, Mother-” Loki groaned as she pulled him from the room.

~~~~

Claire returned from her run sweaty and ready for a bath. After assuring Ragna for the tenth time that she was fine, the woman scurried away to get a breakfast tray for Claire.

From her bedroom she grabbed fresh clothes and a pair of satin panties. Her run in with Loki had left her shivery in the best way. She’d felt his eyes on her the entire way back.

He wanted her.

She could still feel the heat of his gaze as she put her fresh clothes down, trailing her fingers over her clothes to heighten the shivery sparks coursing through her. Her clit throbbed with need, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat.

There was no way she could function like this.

Claire returned to her bedroom, grabbing her favorite toy from deep in her personal bag. She took care to lock the bathroom door behind her; she didn’t fancy anyone walking in.

She started the water, stripping off her soiled clothes as the tub filled with steaming water. Claire put her toy within reach before stepping into the water. She freshened up quickly, her fingers dipping below her navel to circle her clit as she leaned her head back against the stone ledge. She imagined it was Loki’s fingers exploring her body, taking her lower lip between her teeth as she whimpered. Her fingers moved lower, teasing her entrance before she worked them inside to stroke her G-spot.

Pleasure surged throughout her body as her sex grew plump with desire. Claire panted as she brought her feet up to the stone bench she sat on, one hand working her clit as her other grabbed the toy and brought it under the water.

It was basic, as far as dildos went. Basic, but realistic, and reliable. It always got the job done, the veins stroking her inner walls just right as it filled her perfectly. Claire wondered if Loki’s cock would be just as satisfying as she circled her entrance with the tip. She worked it in slowly, her legs trembling with each thrust. Her other hand worked in tandem on her clit, stroking in sync with each shallow thrust of the dildo.

Claire moaned aloud as she thrust the dildo deep inside her, her hips canting as she sought more friction. She couldn’t help but imagine Loki between her thighs, crying out as her walls clenched around the dildo. She pressed her clit harder, stroking roughly as she began fucking herself in earnest.

Tension was building in her hips, the familiar pull in her belly growing stronger. She wanted it to be Loki fucking her senseless and in a matter of days, it would be. God, she wanted his hands on her, his mouth, his cock driving her over the edge as he pounded her into the bed-

Claire barely contained the strangled cry her orgasm forced from her. Her fingers worked her clit frantically, her hips bucking into the dildo as she spasmed, working the last vestiges of pleasure from her body.

“Fuck,” she pulled the dildo free, sighing with the flare of pleasure. She set the toy on the ledge, stretching out in the hot water. Her eyes slipped closed as she relaxed. Not long after she’d sunk deeper into the water, she heard Ragna’s voice outside the bathroom and a moment later she was knocking on the door. “I’ll be right out!” she called.

~~~~

After barely having time to eat her breakfast, Claire rushed to meet with her instructors, filling her morning with mind-numbing drills. She was released around noon, and made her way to the stables after lunch. She was getting better at riding, and as no one had come to collect her for a fitting or a lesson or a scolding when she’d returned her horse to the stable, she decided to use the rest of the afternoon to visit the training yard. Sif’s invitation was too good to pass up, and Claire could use some exercise.

~~~~

Claire's eyes went comically wide as she spotted Loki across the training yard. She’d been sparring with Sif for at least an hour now, and hadn’t expected to see him there.

“Fuck me.” She muttered under her breath. He had no right being so- so...HOT.

“It is hot today.” Sif observed as she fanned herself.

“Tell me about it.” Claire's throat was dry as the Sahara as she eyed her future husband. Apparently he'd had the same complaint as Sif, having shed his standard leather uniform and parading about shirtless. His long hair was gathered in a bun, and stray tendrils swayed with him as he moved to strike his opponent. Claire's fingers dug into the staff she carried as her eyes trailed over the defined lines of muscle laid out in front of her like a feast. Defined shoulders tapered into luscious biceps and veined forearms, his skin dappled with sweat that made him glisten in the afternoon sunlight. He probably smelled amazing. Hot. Sticky. Lickable.

God damn it, he was a cinnamon bun.

It was just plain rude of him to be walking around all nonchalant when he looked that good. The sculpted muscles of his back were smooth and supple like marble, flexing beautifully under his skin as he moved. Up until now, she hadn't much considered what Loki liked like under all the leather. Okay that was a lie, but she hadn't really thought about it in terms of sex. They were going to get married and have babies, and she found him attractive enough not to complain (too much). As they'd gotten to know each other better, she'd learned of his reserved nature and his bookish ways. The man was a nerd.

A very hot nerd, but a nerd all the same.

But this? How was she supposed to look him in the eye knowing he looked like this underneath all the metal and yummy leather?!

Shamelessly, of course. She couldn't let him get the upper hand, and he'd probably never stop gloating if he knew how he affected her. But still. It was positively-

“Indecent.” She sighed.

“Lady Claire.”

“Huh-what?”

“Do you need a minute?” Sif asked teasingly as she followed her gaze to Loki.

“No! Shut up.” Sif snickered as she looked back at Loki, but Claire ignored her as Loki and his sparring partner began fighting their way toward where Claire and Sif stood. Others in the training yard moved aside as the pair made their way across the field. Loki faced her now and good grief, the heat was suddenly unbearable. His back half was a sight to behold, but good lord his chest...Claire wanted to faceplant in his pecs. She watched his obliques flex and bunch as he chased his opponent with fluid movements, his eyes locked on the poor man like a hunter watches his prey.

Claire wanted to be the prey in his gaze. She wanted to sit on those strong thighs and sink her teeth in the thick cords of muscle at his neck. She wanted to trace the lines of his adonis belt with her tongue until he writhed with need. Maybe he'd beg. The man was thick, like a triple stacked burger and Claire suddenly felt starved.

“Fucking hell I wanna bite him.”

“Um-” Sif stepped away from her as she groaned with want. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No! I mean- I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you should go. You're supposed to meet the seamstress soon I think.” Sif had stepped in as Claire’s maid-of-honor. Who else was she going to ask? Sif was her closest friend here.

“It can wait.�� Claire could think of a much better use of her time.

“What are you doing?” Sif asked in a bored tone as Claire gripped her staff tightly.

“I'm gonna fight him.”

“Lady Claire don't-” Claire had already made up her mind, side-stepping into the bout just as Loki's opponent passed her. She stepped in fluidly, fending off Loki's attacks and catching him off guard. His face blanched in confusion, as he wasn't expecting to see her until later. He grabbed her staff to stop the onslaught, stopping her short.

“Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else?” he grinned. From this close, Claire could see the wisps of hair on his chest.

“This looked more fun.” Claire shrugged, hooking her foot around his leg and sending him off balance. She let go of the staff and shoved at him, palming the defined muscles of his chest and knocking him to the ground.

“I'm impressed. You're fast,” He swiped her legs out from beneath her, sending her sprawling into the dirt beside him. “Not fast enough, it seems.”

“I'm plenty fast.” Claire insisted.

“By all means,” he chuckled. “Prove it.”

“You might regret that.” Claire warned as he helped her to her feet. She was smart, Loki thought, not to take her eyes off him. Her staff forgotten on the ground, she struck out first, aiming a punch at his rib cage which he blocked open-handed.

Claire aimed a kick at his torso but he caught her ankle in his hand, attempting to throw her off balance. Claire pivoted and aimed at his head with her other leg, spinning over his head when he ducked. She landed in the dirt, shooting up with a speed that impressed him before she attempted another punch. He batted it away easily, giving her an opening. Before Loki knew it, she’d all but climbed him like a tree and hooked her thighs around his neck. He hit the ground hard while she landed lightly on her feet.

Spry little thing.

Loki snatched her foot, sending her sprawling as he pinned her hands to the ground. Her hands fought uselessly against his strong hold and she growled as she realized she was trapped.

Claire refused to admit she enjoyed his weight pinning her down. Their short bout had drawn a crowd, eager to see the younger prince and the future princess battle it out. Loki loomed over her, his weight keeping her on the ground.

“Do you yield?” The smug bastard had the nerve to smile at her!

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Loki laughed at her indignant tone which just infuriated her more. To add insult to injury, she’d been right- he smelled amazing. He smelled like earth and the tang of sweat.

“Nothing would please me more.”

“Fine, but I expect a rematch.”

“You are a menace,” Loki scoffed. “Very well, you shall have it.” He released her from his grip, chuckling at the annoyed look on her face.

“Well this was...fun,” Claire blew her hair out of her face as she tried to tame it. “I should probably go. I was supposed see the seamstress for my final fitting.”

“And you decided to spar with me instead?” Loki chuckled, jutting his chin toward the waiting Sif. “Off with you, menace.” Claire snickered, fingers combing through her wild hair still.

“See you later, mischief.” Loki watched her leave, still surprised by the skill she’d shown.

~~~~

There were no lessons tonight, but Loki showed up anyway. It had become so ingrained in her daily routine that Claire missed him when he didn’t make an appearance.

“I've had an idea.” Loki announced as they settled on her couch.

“What's that?”

“As you are so new to Asgard, I should give you a tour of your new home.”

“I've had a tour, Loki. Several of them.”

“Ah, yes, the boring, curated, stifled tours my mother has put together,” Loki rolled his eyes. “I meant after dark,” he grinned wolfishly. “No doubt my mother would have sequestered you from our nightlife.”

“That's true. I suppose it's too dangerous for little ol' me to handle,” Claire rolled her eyes. “I hate that people treat me like I'm made of glass.”

“Do you trust me?” Loki asked, eyeing her expectantly. The midnight breeze wafted seductively through the open balcony doors, calling them like a siren out into the night. Claire was itching for adventure, to see the real Asgard. She trusted Loki to show it to her.

“Yes.” His face split into a beautiful smile and he offered his hand.

“Come, the night awaits.”

Loki led her down deserted, cramped hallways and out into the dark night through a back door which he explained was only used by the staff. Together they traveled the dimly lit streets toward the sounds of merrymaking, passing by multiple mounds of fabric that Claire only recognized from her time on Earth. Claire had been so wrapped up in her own experience in Asgard, she hadn’t given much thought to the people she’d seen on her way to the palace.

“There is a houseless population here?” Claire asked heavily, her guilt for only thinking of herself growing with each step.

“There are a number of displaced persons in Asgard,” Loki replied. “They are called hjemløs here, someone without a home.”

“And no one helps them?”

“How would one help them?” Loki asked. “It is a very complex problem.” He led her down a dark street. The noise was louder now, and Claire could see the fringe of a crowd of people in the distance.

“It’s complicated at home too. I always wished I could do something about it,” They’d grown closer to the crowd, and Claire could almost read the merchant sign above the throng of drunks. “Wait,” Claire stopped Loki with a hand on his arm. “Won't we be recognized?” He would be for sure.

“You underestimate me, little mortal. We look the same to each other, but everyone else will see a glamour. Our secret is safe.”

“Wicked. Okay, let's go.” The tavern was the noisiest place she'd been since her arrival in Asgard, with people crowded in to the rafters. Boisterous laughter and rowdy conversations came from all sides, oddly enough making Claire feel at home. She was used to this kind of environment back on Earth. It amused her that people seemed to be the same wherever you went.

“The mead here is excellent. Unfortunately they don't serve the wine you're so fond of.” Loki teased, chuckling when Claire groaned. Pressed close together as they were, Claire felt his laughter more than she heard it, the rich sound lost in the sea of noise.

“Ugh, don't say wine.” Claire groaned. She hadn't imbibed nearly as much of the delicious drink since her first night in Asgard. While she wasn’t exactly embarrassed, the headache wasn’t quite worth the overindulgence.

“Wine,” Loki cackled, laughing harder when Claire gave him a shove. His shoulder collided with another patron, the hulking man roaring with outrage as he turned to glare at Loki. Good grief, the man was like two Thors put together. Claire regretted only bringing the one knife. “Apologies,” Loki said smoothly. “My mistake.” The man said something Claire didn't understand, making himself look bigger. A flash of green clouded the mans face, and he blinked in confusion before speaking softly and moving aside so she and Loki could pass.

“What did you do?” Claire asked as Loki pulled her along. “Did you Obliviate him?”

“Did I what?” Loki asked. “I simply persuaded him to let us pass.”

“Yeah okay,” Claire scoffed. “But really-”

“We are not here to start a brawl,” Loki replied as he secured them a table, holding one of the chairs out for her. As she settled into it, he loomed close enough for her to hear him clearly. “I thought this would be a good way for us to get to know each other, and we can't very well do that if we are busy fighting the entire tavern.”

“I think we could take 'em,” Claire grinned as Loki pushed in her chair. “Thank you.” She said as he took the seat beside hers.

“Of course,” Loki replied as a barmaid approached. “Two meads please,” he said, pulling a small scroll of parchment from somewhere. “Now then-”

“Wait, did you actually bring a written list of things you wanted to ask me?” Claire asked as she spied the scribbling on the paper.

“It helps to organize my thoughts.”

“That's adorable,” Claire giggled. “What do you want to know?” Loki leaned closer as he flattened the paper and Claire was amused by the eager look on his face, as though he were a scientist interrogating a new discovery.

“I wish to know what has happened on Midgard whilst I’ve been imprisoned. Who is your current world leader? What meager squabbles are your nations fighting about now? What-”

“Hang on, dude, take a breath,” Claire snickered. “We don’t have a ‘world leader’- every country has their own leaders, though I’m sure the president of my country would like to think he’s the world leader, but really he’s just an asshat.”

“Is he not a good leader?”

“Good?!” Claire laughed raucously. “I’m sorry it’s just-” another peal of laughter escaped her as Loki looked on with concern. Claire cleared her throat and took a drank of her mead. “No, he is not a good leader.” she wiped the moisture from the corner of her eye, her laughter still fading.

“Yet he is...in charge?”

“Unfortunately,” Claire said bitterly. “I’ll never understand how someone like him won. He’s the worst kind of person imaginable.”

“How so?” Loki asked.

“Oh god, where to start,” Claire snorted. “He’s arrogant, sexist, racist, he makes fun of people who are disabled, poor, not white. He’s been accused of rape by multiple women and he brags about it,” she snarled. “He spends more time golfing than actually working- oh god, he hasn’t been invited to the wedding, has he?”

“Most likely,” Loki muttered. “Many of your worlds leaders have been.”

“Oh no,” Claire sighed. “If anyone is likely to start a war between Earth and Asgard, it would be him. Can we un-invite him?

“Not without causing an incident,” Loki bristled. “Though with what you’ve just said…” he shook his head. “His leadership-” Claire gave a sarcastic laugh.

“His idea of leadership is spending enough money to end homelessness in the country on a military parade for himself,” she said scornfully. “He’s never even been in the military.” Loki’s brows furrowed as he considered her words, gesturing for two more pints of mead as the server passed by.

“How is this allowed?”

“He’s a giant man baby; what he wants, he gets. He really is a piece of shit.”

“Odin’s beard,” Loki muttered. “I would have been a better ruler than this buffoon.”

“Is that so?” Claire chuckled. “It wouldn’t be difficult; you at least have brains.”

“Indeed I do,” Loki mused. “What of his policies?”

“Do you really want to sit here and talk politics?” Claire asked as they received another round of mead. “Or do you want to ask me more personal questions off your nerdy little list?”

“Rude,” Loki scoffed. Claire giggled at the affronted face he made. “Do not mock my list.”

“Just ask your questions!” Claire laughed.

“Alright, alright,” Loki’s eyes scanned the list, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he made his choice. “If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?”

“Isn’t this kind of a moot question?”

“You said-”

“Yeah, but I can’t do anything with my life but this,” Claire argued. “Isn’t is kind of...I don’t know, sad, to think about doing something else?” Something flickered in Loki’s expression and he glanced down at the table between them.

“Shall I tell you what I would do?”

“If you weren’t a prince?” Loki nodded. “What?”

“I would teach.” That was not what Claire would have guessed. She didn’t really know what she would have guessed if forced.

“What would you teach?”

“Anything. Everything,” Loki shrugged. “Knowledge is so vital, for all aspects of life. A good education can make all the difference in one’s life. But more than that, a teacher is someone who is valued, who is trusted, is essential,” he said passionately. “There is no field, no pursuit that is not touched by education. To teach is to shape the future-”

Hearing Loki speak so passionately was endearing. The depth of his conviction was obvious and charming. It was clear that Loki had bonded with a former teacher, and it was nice to know that was a universal experience.

“I’ve said too much.” Loki’s voice brought her back, and Claire felt guilty for getting lost in her thoughts instead of listening.

“No, not at all,” Claire shook her head. “I think it’s amazing how passionate you are about it. I can’t really say I feel that passionate about anything except-” she blanched at the thought of her mother.

“Except?” Loki prompted. Claire wanted to answer, she wanted to return his openness, but she swallowed the words instead. The wound was too deep, too tender to risk sharing. “My hope for this venture was that we could be more open with one another,” Though he spoke gently, disappointment colored Loki’s words and Claire felt horrible. It was obvious he was trying, and that’s what she’d asked for.

“I’m sorry. I want to share, it’s just...it’s very painful still, and I don’t like talking about it.” Loki regarded her coolly, a slight frown wrinkling the corners of his mouth.

“I can respect that. I hope that someday you will trust me with whatever it is. I shall have mercy on you,” he relented. “If you answer a different question.”

“Alright, fine.” Loki’s long fingers drummed on the tabletop as he perused his list for something to ask. Claire could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“This...Mateo you mentioned in the market...did you love him?”

“What? Pass,” Claire scoffed, laughing at the abrupt change of topic. “Why do you ask?”

“I am curious and wish to learn more about you,” Loki explained. “May I continue?”

“No way!” Claire laughed. “If you want answers, you'd better be giving some of your own. Quid pro quo, Clarice.” she did her best Hannibal Lecter impression, complete with the sound effect.

“Are you ill?” Loki asked with concern.

“What? No, I'm- never mind, the reference isn't something you'd know.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, ever seen Silence of the Lambs?”

“No.”

“That's where it's from.”

“Is this a novel?”

“It's based on a book, but they made a movie in the 90s. Clarice is one of the characters, and one of the reasons I wanted to be an investigator.” Claire explained.

“You enjoy puzzles,” Loki surmised. “The challenge of solving something.”

“Very much,” Claire grinned, grateful they seemed to be connecting again. “So do you do this often?” she asked.

“Escape the palace, you mean? Pretend to be someone else?”

“Yeah.”

“In my youth I did it often. Obviously I've not been able to in a long time.”

“Obviously.”

“It is a balm, to escape. To forget.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Claire said softly. She let her eyes drift around the tavern, settling on a group of men wielding axes. There were multiple racks of axes and targets at the end of long lanes.

“Have you ever thrown axes before?” Loki asked. “Would you like to play?”

“Hell yes.” Loki led her over to the farthest lane, away from the crowd of men. Loki pulled two axes from a rack.

“It's similar to archery. Highest points are for hitting the bullseye, lower points for other parts of the target,” He tapped at the numeric symbols on the target before deftly turning one of the axes so the handle faced her. “Ladies first.” Claire took the axe and stood at the throwing line on the floor, hefting the axe to aim.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, and you may ask another,” Loki quipped playfully, grinning when Claire turned away from the target to glare at him. “What is your question?”

“What is Njord’s deal?” Claire let the axe fly, striking just shy of center. “Clearly he’s a dick, but I can’t figure out why. Does he hate me because I’m human, because I’m a woman, because I’m poor, or all of the above?” she asked as she returned to the table. Loki drank deeply from his mead before moving toward the throwing line.

“Njord is a pompous windbag,” Loki muttered darkly, eyeing the target. “He thinks himself above everyone but the Allfather-” he grunted as he threw the axe, the blade hitting dead center with a satisfying thunk. “-And even that is debatable.”

“Yeah I don't like him,” Claire shook her head as Loki returned to their table. “He came by my apartment to yell at me after- after the glitter incident.” Loki snorted into his drink, choking on his laughter before sobering.

“He did what?”

“Well not yell, but to tell me I'm a disappointment and I'm making him look bad.”

“He should not have done that,” Loki scowled. “He has no right to speak to you that way.”

“That's what I said! I told him he dragged me here and he had to deal with it. I also called him a troll.”

“You did not.” Loki balked, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips.

“Yes I did,” Claire cackled. “Serves him right, the fucker.”

“Did he truly drag you here?” Loki looked unsettled by the idea.

“Not really, it was a figure of speech more than anything,” Claire replied. “I tried to stay out of it, but apparently I was the first choice and he rejected everyone else, so...here I am.”

“Why did you agree?” Loki asked. “For all his pomposity, Njord would have listened if you had said no.”

“Lots of reasons,” Claire shrugged, feeling as though Loki was looking at her under a microscope. “Just sitting in the negotiations I knew whoever came here would have to be willing to advocate for themselves. I have no problem with that. And as much as it makes me want to vomit, I couldn't split up Thor and Jane. You don't have that kind of attachment.”

“I don't?” Claire's stomach dropped at the question.

“Do you?” Loki laughed at her dismayed expression. He came up behind her, his large hands on her hips angling her body toward the target.

“Stay your conscience, little mortal. The closest I've had to someone like you forsook me eons ago.” He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck

“Someone like me?”

“A wife. A significant other.” the deep gruff of his voice gave her goosebumps as he leaned close to speak in her ear.

“Oh.”

“I have always been expected to marry, remember?” he peered at her expectantly.

“Yes.” Loki pulled away, turning his glass in his hands. The muscle in his jaw ticked before he spoke, a haunted look stealing the mirth from his gaze.

“When I was younger, Odin decided it was time. He arranged the match much like he arranged ours, except the girl was a born Asgardian,” he said. “I protested at first but truthfully, it was an advantageous match. Her family was well-esteemed in the court, her father worked with mine so we knew he could be trusted, and she had an excellent upbringing and education.” He scored another bullseye, turning back to the table without celebrating.

“So what happened? If he wanted you married so badly, why am I here and not her?”

“Ah,” Loki chuckled wryly as her axe sank into the target. “I began my...” his long fingers drummed on the table as he searched for the correct wording. “Fall from grace. Yes, that shall suffice. I caused considerable damage on Midgard-”

“New York?”

“Before that.” Loki mumbled into his mead.

“Ah, New Mexico.” Claire replied. Loki nodded.

“When I was brought back to Asgard after New York and imprisoned, she declared she would not have me. As was her right.”

“Oh wow, that wasn't that long ago,” Claire murmured. “I'm sorry.”

“I am not,” Loki said. “She was not a good match except by Odin's metrics.”

“It was Yrsa, wasn't it?” Claire asked. Loki froze, fingers clasped too tightly around his glass.

“Why would you think so?”

“She's been a class A cunt to me ever since I got here. It's not much of a stretch. Did I guess right?”

“You did,” Loki replied airily. “Well done.”

“I see what you mean though,” Claire muttered. Loki said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow questioningly. “Of course she’s not a good match for you; she's a ninny. She’s scared of her own shadow.” Loki’s face split into a wide grin.

“Not like you,” he praised. “You’re quite brave. I daresay fearless.”

“I- was that a compliment?” Claire gaped at him in surprise. “For me?” she asked, laying a hand on her chest as though in shock.

“Do not get used to it,” Loki replied. “I was merely saying...”

“Go on,” Claire urged him. “Say it.”

“No,” Loki balked. “The moment I do, I fear your head shall inflate and thus cause you to be permanently affixed to the ground.”

“Um- excuse me; of the two of us, you are far more arrogant and therefore more likely to collapse under the weight of your own ego,” they both burst into drunken giggles. “My job is to keep you humble by humiliating you at axe throwing.”

“Among other things, I’m sure.”

“Eh, TBD,” Claire said as she threw her axe. The blade sank deep into the bullseye with a satisfying thunk. Claire grinned, eyeing her bullseye with pride. “Not bad for a waif who procures fish.”

“Indeed,” Loki grinned. He met her eyes in the low light of the tavern, and the tension between them skyrocketed. They’d been brushing against each other throughout the game, warmed by drink and each others company. Claire watched him intently, her sapphire eyes dipping from his eyes to his lips and back up. Loki swallowed, trying to tamper his growing desire. “I should return you to your chambers.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I must. You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” Claire argued petulantly, her hand clasping his forearm as she leaned closer. “Couldn’t we just...stay out and drink til dawn?” Her tone suggested she wasn’t talking about drinking.

“And have the entire palace out searching for us?” Loki asked. “I had no idea you had such a lust for danger.”

“I’m an adrenaline junkie through and through,” Claire teased. “I love anything dangerous.” Loki smiled fondly, breaking their heated gaze before he threw caution to the wind.

“I shall keep that in mind for the future.”

#covenant #loki x ofc #loki fic

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sentinelprompts · 1 year ago

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━━ ⟢ SENTENCE STARTERS : EXCALIBUR ( 1981 ). all of these were pulled from the final draft of the script as it is available online. perfect but not limited to fantasy / historical muses and verses ! feel free to edit as needed.

❛ i spit on your truce, [name]. ❜

❛ [name], what is this wagging of tongues? ❜

❛ you will be mine. wife and queen, bed and crown. ❜

❛ i want no other crown and no other bed than those i have. ❜

❛ sometimes i give, sometimes i take. it is mine to know which, and when. ❜

❛ i know the storm inside you, and what it has wrought. ❜

❛ you will swear by your true kingship to grant me what i wish. ❜

❛ this is magic - making solid what is in the mind, and unsolid, that which is already solid. ❜

❛ it is done. the future has found root in the present. ❜

❛ but what shall become of me, and the child i bear? ❜

❛ three horses died under me, so hard did i spur them here. ❜

❛ the child is mine, [name]. i have come for [him/her/them]. ❜

❛ it’s not for you, [name], heath and home, wife and child. ❜

❛ to kill and be king, is that all? ❜

❛ you strike me with words as hard as steel. ❜

❛ [name]... i loved you, mighty child. ❜

❛ it is a dark hour… everywhere lawlessness and destruction, and no one to lead us out of it. ❜

❛ you wrong me, for i have never stolen from others, or destroyed the fruit of the land. ❜

❛ a good squire doesn’t forget his knight’s sword. ❜

❛ i was your son before i became your king…if i am king. ❜

❛ [name], we haven’t forgotten you. this is more of your trickery. ❜

❛ ‘help me, help me’. help me get up. ❜

❛ i was hoping i could ask you for a little magic help, but if it makes you so tired… ❜

❛ it will be a good lesson. the best, if it’s not the last. ❜

❛ let’s finish this with a show of force. we have no more tricks and no more advantages. ❜

❛ you are in my hands, to slay or to spare. ❜

❛ swear faith to me and you shall have mercy. ❜

❛ you, [name], will knight me. ❜

❛ well, then, i shall tell you which knights have maiden daughters, so you can avoid their castles. ❜

❛ quiet, or i’ll sew up your mouth too. ❜

❛ i love her. if she would be my queen, my dreams would be answered. ❜

❛ there are maidens as fair, and fairer than [name]. ❜

❛ you’re not listening. your heart is not. love is deaf as well as blind. ❜

❛ i should have left you to fend for yourself. ❜

❛ that is a wild boast. you lack a knight’s humility. ❜

❛ never have i met my match in joust or duel. ❜

❛ yield. i have the advantage. ❜

❛ fight me from your horse or on foot, but fight me. your avoidance mocks me. ❜

❛ i sought only not to harm you. ❜

❛ thanks to god, you are alive. ❜

❛ i love you, my king. ❜

❛ it is i who must love you, for through your courage and patience you taught me a bitter lesson. ❜

❛ make me your champion, and i will always fight in your place. ❜

❛ i would pledge to you all that i still own : muscle, bone, blood and the heart that pumps it. ❜

❛ the war is over. one land, one king. peace. ❜

❛ i swear never to rest twice on the same pillow till all men live at peace. ❜

❛ i hear the stifled cry for help, i smell the reek of fear… ❜

❛ for your gift, ask a gift of me. ❜

❛ don’t start a war on my wedding day! ❜

❛ look, [name]. the maids and ladies whisper about you. they all dream of winning you, young and old, fair and ugly. ❜

❛ you're the bravest and strongest knight they’ve ever seen, and beauty has kissed your brow. ❜

❛ and is there no maiden in the whole world who inspires you? ❜

❛ i would swear my love to you. ❜

❛ i will see you in all women, and i will defend them as i would defend you. ❜

❛ [name], don’t you join the celebration? ❜

❛ you’re an angel! not a devil… ❜

❛ who will give me my sword? ❜

❛ i want to write poems about you with moonbeams, make the sea sing your name… ❜

❛ what good are songs and poems to me? they are the barter of ordinary love. ❜

❛ tell me, [name] : have we defeated evil, as it seems? ❜

❛ where hides evil, then, in my kingdom? ❜

❛ i will champion you, my lady. ❜

❛ when i act as your king, i cannot be your husband. ❜

❛ the laws, my laws, must bind everyone, or they are not laws at all. ❜

❛ [name], i fight against myself… ❜

❛ i demand justice, as is my right. ❜

❛ i yield to your mercy, [name]. ❜

❛ flesh on flesh. i will heal you. ❜

❛ they miss the battlefield. i think we do too. ❜

❛ you will be sorely missed. heal yourself and come back. ❜

❛ you think yourself a kingmaker. ha! a meddler, more likely. ❜

❛ the gods of once are gone forever, it is time for men. ❜

❛ [name], make a man out of me. kiss me. ❜

❛ do you think i am ignorant of your stupid little games? preying on the weakness of others. that’s your power, a petty evil. ❜

❛ i will ride forth in the name of that quest, and commit my strength and my soul to it. ❜

❛ [name], a dreadful fear is upon me, that we may never meet again, that the fellowship will be no more… ❜

❛ [name], i know your heart yearns to go, but i am prisoner to my duties, and you must be to yours, at my side. ❜

❛ [name], forgive me. i die without the secret. i have failed. ❜

❛ where are you going, [name], in your iron tomb? still trying to save the world? ❜

❛ i have come to claim what is mine. ❜

❛ i recognize you only as my son, no more. ❜

❛ i cannot offer you the land, only my love. ❜

❛ we will embrace only in battle, and i will touch you only with the blade of my spear. ❜

❛ i will muster a great force of knights, and i will return to fight for what is mine. ❜

❛ i have waited long for you. ❜

❛ i am wasting away and i cannot die. and i cannot live. ❜

❛ i didn’t know how empty was my soul until it was filled. ❜

❛ [name], accept my forgiveness, and put your heart to rest. we have suffered too long. ❜

❛ i have always loved you, and i still love you. ❜

❛ i loved you much, as king, and sometimes as husband, but one cannot gaze too long at the sun in the sky. ❜

❛ i was not born to live a man’s life, but to be the stuff of future memory. ❜

❛ now once more i must ride with my knights to defend what was, and the dream of what could be. ❜

❛ i never dared to hope all these years that it was in your keeping. ❜

❛ i have often thought that in the hereafter of our lives, when i owe no more to the future and can be just a man, that we may meet, and you will come to me and claim me as yours, and know that i am your husband. it is a dream i have… ❜

❛ [name], i need you at my side as you were once, my friend, to give me courage. ❜

❛ quiet. you’ll wake the men, and they must fight tomorrow for their lives. ❜

❛ you brought me back. your love brought me back. ❜

❛ what’s behind that beauty? a wizened, cold-hearted snake. ❜

❛ you are mine at last. i am the sea and you will never escape me. ❜

❛ in this battle there is one thing i must do, that no one else can. ❜

❛ [name], i will save you…don’t die. ❜

❛ let my heart do its job, [name], and pump me empty… ❜

❛ the fog is lifting. only we remain alive. ❜

❛ [name], prepare to meet your death. ❜

❛ obey me, [name]. you must act for me. it is my last order as your king. ❜

❛ [name]! will you return? ❜

#rp meme #rp starters #rp prompts #inbox meme #sentence starters #mine.#arthuriana #fantasy #break in formatting there but else tunglr will literally not let me post so fuck me ig

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anonymousewrites · 2 years ago

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A Good Day for Death (Book 1) Chapter Ten

Wednesday Addams x Reaper! Reader

Chapter Ten: A Good Day for Shopping

Summary: Everyone is excited for the Rave'N, except Wednesday, who, of course, just wants to continue her investigation. Unfortunately for her, her partner in crime is ready to party, and Wednesday herself is dragged in.

The next day near the end of botany class, after they finished their reading of the section, (Y/N) asked, “How did Enid take your new dorm decorations?”

When they had headed out for the morning, (Y/N) had spied Wednesday putting the photos of the victims and severed body parts up on a board. They had heard Wednesday sneaking out the previous night and guessed that she was up to something. They had been anxiously awaiting a moment to ask her what she had discovered on her little trip.

“She didn’t appreciate my unsanctioned trip to the morgue,” murmured Wednesday so no one overheard. “She fainted when she saw the different surgically removed organs and limbs.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine Enid would like seeing that so early in the morning,” agreed (Y/N). They frowned. “Wait, surgically removed?”

Wednesday nodded. “After the victims are killed by the monster, someone is removing body parts.”

(Y/N) furrowed their brow. “That just gives more questions about this monster issue than answers.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Wednesday.

“Alright, class,” called Thornhill. “I know everyone’s excited Saturday, but we have some lessons to finish up. To sum up the reading, while most plants reward their pollinators with sweet nectar, many carnivorous varieties turn to sexual trickery or deception. The orchid specifically produces a pheromone that mimics a female insect, luring the males in. Now, once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in exchange?”

“Nada. Just like all the guys at the Rave’N,” joked Bianca. The students laughed and began talking amongst themselves once again.

“Okay, okay.” Thornhill gathered their attention again. “I know you’re all excited about Saturday, which is why I haven’t assignment any homework.” The students nearly cheered with joy. “But I do still need volunteers for the decorating committee. Anyone interested, come and see me up here. Class dismissed!”

“You’re not gonna volunteer?” asked Xavier, looking at Wednesday. “Aren’t you pumped about disco balls and spiked punch? There’s even a DJ. MC Blood Suckaz.”

“I’d rather stick needles in my eyes,” said Wednesday at the suggestion that she would go to a party.

“Yeah, but you’d do that for fun,” teased (Y/N).

“I’d at least stick them into others’ eyes,” agreed Wednesday.

“Well, you could always invite someone to the Rave’N to have some fun,” said Xavier. Clearly, he was hoping to go with Wednesday. He put his sketchbook away and revealed three long scratches on his neck.

“That would be even more torturesome. And not the fun kind of torture,” said Wednesday, standing up.

(Y/N) followed but trailed behind in slight disappointment. They had to admit they were hoping that if Wednesday did get convinced to go the Rave’N, that she would go with them since they were partners in crime. They didn’t think there was much of a chance of her going anyway, but (Y/N) had entertained a small hope.

“Did you see his neck?” remarked Wednesday, snapping them out of their thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, the scratches,” said (Y/N).

“They look similar to those of the monster’s victims,” said Wednesday. “I’m going to see what he’s up to in his free time.”

“Like in his art shed?” asked (Y/N).

“If that’s all it is,” said Wednesday darkly.

“Alright, good luck,” said (Y/N).

Wednesday looked at (Y/N) out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not accompanying me?”

“Can’t. I’m helping Enid decide on what look she’s going for at the Rave’N. She’s making a masterplan to make Ajax jealous since he ditched her on the date they planned,” said (Y/N). They grinned. “Hopefully we make him really regret that decision.”

Wednesday nodded. “If you are in need of torture tools for the boy, they are in my desk.”

“We only will if he manages to somehow hurt Enid’s feelings at the dance. That would mean war,” said (Y/N) brightly.

“Okay, so, full pink hair, I’ll ask some witches to perform a spell for it, sequined dress, which we’ll get in town, and what are we doing with your nails?” said (Y/N) as they wrote down what Enid had so far decided on.

“I don’t want to match too much, but I want to keep a theme,” said Enid thoughtfully.

“How about pink nails? And one of them could have some sparkles?” suggested (Y/N).

“You’re a genius,” said Enid excitedly. “So what about you, what are you going to wear?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll take a look when we go into town.”

The door to the dorm swung open, and a traumatized-looking Wednesday entered the room. “I am horrified to say it, but I am going to the dance.”

Enid’s eyes widened. “You’re going to the Rave’N?”

Wednesday gritted her teeth. “In an attempt to investigate Xavier, I was accosted by him and had to save my cover by asking him to the Rave’N.”

(Y/N) felt their heart clench. Yes, Wednesday was just doing it so Xavier didn’t realize she had been sneaking around his art shed, but it was disappointing that she was going with a guy who definitely had a thing for her. (Y/N) was, well, jealous of Xavier.

“I guess we’ll have to get you a dress, then,” said (Y/N), swallowing their envy.

“I already have one,” said Wednesday.

Enid made a horrified face. “That thing was a fashion emergency not even lightning could resuscitate. Thing, (Y/N), back me up.” Thing gave a thumbs up.

(Y/N) shrugged sheepishly. “You looked nice, Wednesday, but it’s not exactly up to a formal dance’s dress code.”

Wednesday crossed her arms and just glared at them.

“I know just the place to fix this,” said Enid excitedly. “We need to get to Jericho, stat!”

“What kind of dystopian hellscape is this?” questioned Wednesday as she glowered at the “Hewte Kewture” store before her.

“The dance committee’s suggesting all white to match the white, but that’s not going to fly with us,” said Enid, ignoring Wednesday.

“I have more pressing business than to worry about a dance I don’t want to attend,” said Wednesday, turning away. “I’m going to speak to Sheriff Galpin. I’m planning to convince him to give me more information on the case.” She glanced at (Y/N) to see if they were joining.

Enid grabbed (Y/N)’s arm and smiled at Wednesday. “Have fun! I’m commandeering your partner-in-crime.”

“Good luck with Sheriff Galpin,” said (Y/N), smiling. Wednesday nodded to them and walked away.

Enid dragged (Y/N) into Hewte Kewture. “Alright, first things first, we’re getting you a dress.”

(Y/N) frowned. “I thought today was your fashion show. You know, make a statement to Ajax that he should have showed up?”

“Yeah, but I can’t have my best friend not turn up looking a-ma-zing.” Enid grinned at (Y/N). “You know, to prove to Xavier that he might be the one going with Wednesday, but you are so much better than him.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they turned red. “It’s just a cover. Wednesday doesn’t want him to know she was breaking into his art shed.”

Enid ignored the mention of Wednesday breaking and entering. “Yeah, but he thinks it’s more than that, and we need to remind him you and Wednesday are way cuter.” (Y/N) somehow turned even redder.

“Alright, we’ve both found dresses,” said Enid happily.

(Y/N) nodded, holding the box with their dress in it. They honestly really liked their dress and were excited to wear it. Even if they weren’t going with Wednesday like they hoped, they were determined to have fun.

“Now, I’ve been invited to get coffee with Yoko. Would you hate me if I headed out?” said Enid.

(Y/N) smiled and shook their head. “No, I’m going to head back to Nevermore. Have fun.”

“By the way, I’m hoping that Bianca charms Xavier or something so that you can go with Wednesday,” said Enid as she ran out. “Oh! I’ll ask a witch to curse him!”

You know, Enid can be craftier than people think, thought (Y/N), smiling and shaking their head.

“Don’t want to ask what trouble you’re in now,” said Tyler teasingly as Wednesday left the sheriff’s office.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” replied Wednesday. “Your father’s in particularly frustrating form today. Avoid.”

“Yeah, welcome to my world,” said Tyler. He cleared his throat. “You guys have the Rave’N this weekend, right? It was all the buzz at the Weathervane today.”

“I must be the only one not obsessed with this stupid dance,” muttered Wednesday. “Even (Y/N) is into it.”

“So, you’re not going?” asked Tyler.

“Actually, I was forced to ask someone as an act of self-preservation,” said Wednesday.

Tyler’s face was one of confusion. “Sure, that happens, I guess. So, who is it? (Y/N)?” Tyler had seen Wednesday with (Y/N) quite a bit, so his jealousy chose them as the person Wednesday would be going with for “self-preservation.”

“No. Xavier,” said Wednesday.

Tyler was further annoyed. “Got it.” He brushed past her. “Hope you two have fun.”

“I’m not sure you’re upset,” said Wednesday, turning to face him.

“That’s kind of the problem,” said Tyler. “I mean, call me crazy, Wednesday, but you keep giving me these signals.”

Wednesday’s expression didn’t change. “It’s not my fault I can’t interpret your emotional Morse code.” The only person she was seen hanging around with was (Y/N), so why Tyler thought he was getting signals was unknown to her.

“Then let me spell it out. I thought we liked each other, but then you pull something like this, and I have no idea where I stand,” said Tyler. “Am I in the ‘more than friend’ zone or just a pawn in some game you’re playing?”

Again, Wednesday didn’t react. Tyler wasn’t someone she sought out for anything other than information, and while he was traditionally attractive, Wednesday was never one to be drawn in just by that type of stuff. Sure, he may become a friend at some point (though she denied it), but there wasn’t really anything more on Wednesday’s end. Tyler’s assertion that he thought he was getting hints of affection from Wednesday were just odd.

“I am prioritizing, and emotions are not first,” said Wednesday to get herself out of the conversation. Without waiting for a response, she turned away and walked to the bus back to Nevermore.

After her trip into the monster’s cave with Eugene’s help, Wednesday returned to Xavier’s shed. She needed his DNA to compare to the monster claw left in its lair. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and then she could figure a way out of going to the Rave’N. If she could get Galpin to test it, that would work. Wednesday nearly smiled in satisfaction as she found a bloody rag in the trash, undoubtedly Xavier’s. She tucked it into a plastic bag and then placed that in her backpack. Before she could leave, however, Xavier walked in.

“What are you doing?” asked Xavier.

“How do you know what the monster looks like?” questioned Wednesday. “Or are these all just self-portraits?”

Xavier scoffed. “What, you think it’s me? I saved your life.”

“With the gargoyle, that was (Y/N),” pointed out Wednesday. “But if you’re talking about the night Rowan was killed, the monster did save me.”

“You are so out of line right now,” snapped Xavier.

“I’m trying to uncover the truth,” said Wednesday. “And your art seems to have a recurring motif.”

Xavier swallowed. “Yeah. This creature’s been haunting my dreams for weeks. I try to block it out, but I can’t. So I just…come in here and paint it. While I was painting this one—” he gestured to a large painting “—claws reached out and took a swipe at me. That’s how I got these.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt to show his scratch marks.

“I thought you were able to control your ability,” said Wednesday appraisingly.

“Not when it comes to this,” admitted Xavier.

“Maybe it’s your guilty conscience,” suggested Wednesday.

“I told you I’m not the monster, okay?!” cried Xavier.

Wednesday took out of the drawing she had taken from his shed earlier. “You just happened to draw pictures of it, down to the location of its lair in the woods?” she challenged. “Those are some pretty vivid dreams. And you keep trying to convince me that visions can’t be trusted, yet yours are fine.”

“You were in here,” realized Xavier. “Before, when I caught you outside.” Wednesday looked slightly to the side as she realized she had given herself away. “That’s the only reason you asked me to the Rave’N?” He scoffed incredulously. “To try and cover. You are unbelievable!”

“It’s nothing personal,” said Wednesday.

“No! It never is with you, is it?!” cried Xavier. “I mean, do you even care about anyone or anything at all, Wednesday?!”

He’d be unhappy to know that she did care about other people, but it just wasn’t him that she cared about in the way he wished.

“No, Thing, for the last time, I’m not going,” said Wednesday as she gathered her supplies for the stakeout she and Eugene were going to. (Y/N) was too busy with the dance so Wednesday was heading with the Hummers crew.

Thing continued tapping against the desk furiously. He was trying to convinced Wednesday to go since he was on Enid’s side trying to pair Wednesday and (Y/N) up.

“No. I don’t care that (Y/N)’s going, and no, I don’t care that they’re dressed up. I don’t care about parties or any of that stuff,” said Wednesday.

Thing paused in his equivalent of a sigh and tapped out his final message.

“What do you mean you and Enid told them I was going to be joining them?” hissed Wednesday. “I didn’t even bother getting a dress.”

Thing pointed to the bed in response. A black box lay on it. Wednesday glared at him but opened the package. The dress from Uriah’s Heap shop window lay in it. She sighed.

“Fine. But only because I can’t have (Y/N) being upset at me,” muttered Wednesday. Thing tapped the desk. “No, not because I would care. Because it would interrupt my investigation, that’s why.”

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#a good day for death #wednesday 2022 #netflix wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday #addams #the addams family #wednesday addams x reader #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #wednesday season one #wednesday season 1 #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #netflix

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voidsentprinces · 4 months ago

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Man I am just sitting here wishing Lyse was able to actually work and live among the people and help find solutions aiding in her eventual ascension to the Revolutionary Leader of Ala Mhigo as Wuk Lamat is carefully being prepared and given lessons by each tribe and its people for the succession the Dawnservant. Instead we had to follow Yugiri in transversing the despairing people of Namai, lean on Alisaie to do the negotiating with the pirates of the Confederacy in the Ruby Sea, and follow Hien's plan for using the Nhaama to gain the following of the Steppe Tribes. In fact, the Azim Steppe might be the only part of Stormblood that did slow down and let us breath in the culture and some of the exchanges with four tribes. Kugane seemed to lose itself in the Namazu trickery plot. I feel it might of been more beneifical to take it as slow as Dawntrail is going to let Lyse gain a better understanding of each one. But, I guess it might be the difference in the time of day.

Just like with A Realm Reborn, its a new dawn. We slowly get up and get ready for the work and responsibilities for the day ahead. Learn of the land and its people. While the afternoon everyone is busy trying to get home before the sun finally sets. Little time but to exchange basic pleasantries and you go to and fro to finish up what you can before you set in for the tasks at night.

#dawntrail spoilers #{ ramblings from the void }

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frogmoisturethief · 10 days ago

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HERE’S A LITTLE LESSON IN TRICKERY…

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honeysmokedham · 9 months ago

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TIMING: november LOCATION: graveyard PARTIES: @honeysmokedham & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: mentorship involves teaching your mentee. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

The Graveyard was at capacity, crowded by Emilio, Nora, and the dead that presided there. Nora stood across from Emilio, slayer - safely tucked away in a sheath - clutched in her left hand as she watched Emilio's every movement. Axis wasn't big enough for proper knife training which meant the pair often took the short walk from Axis to Gallows Grove to train. The first few weeks mostly consisted of Emilio telling Nora everything wrong she was doing with the knife. How to hold it, how to stand, how to wield it. What strikes to practice, what footing to work on. What Emilio didn't know, and what she would never tell him, was she took it all to heart. Each lesson he imparted to her she devoured. Each night she'd take what he'd taught her and practice it over and over until her exhausted body informed her it was time to go home and sleep.

A crowd of ghosts had taken to watching them whenever they showed up. A few of them would shout encouragement to Nora. A few of them would curse Emilio's name. It all depended on who was around. Today a trio of three old ladies made up the gallery. They sat and chatted on a large monument near them. Nora did her best to block out their chatter but every now and then she'd catch snippets of their bets and jokes. One, the middle one, bet that Nora wouldn't dare to attack because "Surely the girl knows the man is just going to disarm her and she'd lose again."

Nora struck first, throwing Slayer directly at Emilio while dashing in. Her other hand fumbled in her pocket for a moment before grasping Vampire's handle and wrenching it out of her pocket. Lunging forward after her thrown knife, Nora attempted a swipe to his side. Trickery always worked right? Was she supposed to throw these knives? She didn't know. All she knew is one day she'd win one of these little exercises.

—

It felt strange, being out in the graveyard with no intention to kill anything. Emilio patrolled the town’s graveyards often, though he tried to hide this fact from Nora. He didn’t want her to feel as though he distrusted her ability to take care of herself, but the moment he’d realized she was living in a damn graveyard, he’d made it a point to make sure the thing was free of spawns and other undead entities. And no matter how many times they came here, carrying knives they had no intention of bloodying, some part of Emilio felt foreign.

He’d never really been involved in training someone before. Jaime had been working on his training when he’d died, but Emilio hadn’t been involved in it. He wasn’t sure if Rosa had never asked him as a kindness or because she knew he’d say no. And Flora… He hadn’t had the stomach to start her training at her age, hadn’t been able to justify the idea of putting a knife in his baby’s hand and sticking her in a crypt with something to kill. But Nora was different. Nora was old enough to understand it, Nora was in more danger without training than she was with it, Nora asked him to help her learn. And Nora lived in a crypt, anyway, so she probably wouldn’t mind much if he stuck her in one.

Still, even with all this in mind, he made an effort to allow his training methods to differ from the way he’d been taught. When Nora lunged towards him and attempted to swipe his side after a decent distraction attempt, Emilio darted out of the way and grabbed her wrist. But he didn’t twist it the way his mother would have, didn’t slice his own knife across her side the way Edgar would have, certainly didn’t stick his blade into some fleshy, ‘mostly harmless’ part of her body the way Rosa had done to him countless times. His grip on her wrist was firm, but not painful, and he released it after one quick squeeze just to display the grip. “Getting better,” he told her. “But when you throw the knife, aim for the center. Here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “Makes them have to work more to move out of the way. Easier to catch them off guard. And if they’re slow, you may hit them anyway. A knife in the chest slows anyone down.”

—

“I should have gone for the knee.” Nora mumbled, as her attack was one more foiled. Despite the knowledge that not everything she fought would have a bad knee. In a lot of ways, Nora knew she had an advantage in a real fight. Her illusions would make for effective distractions. Plus, she could literally turn into a bear. Who wanted to fight a bear? Actually. She knew the answer to that. Sane people didn’t want to fight a bear, then you had those people on the internet who swore up and down they could win a fist fight with a bear. Bravado, she knew.

Still, Nora knew that if she relied on tricks and weaknesses one day, she’d encounter a fight where those things didn’t work. Then someone she’d cared about would pay the price for taking the easy way out. Nora went to retrieve Slayer, placing both the knives back in her pocket. “I need to practice aiming more.” As if she’d been aiming for his center. Of course, she wasn’t, she’d been trying to chuck it at his head.

Standing behind him, where she’d walked to go pick up Slayer, Nora tried a sneak attack. Coming from his back right side with an overhead swing. She didn’t find out if it was going to work or not, because a scent, familiar, caught her attention. It was faint, brought to them by the wind. Nora diverted the momentum of her swing into pivoting to face behind her. “Do you smell that?” Nora asked Emilio. She sniffed again, trying to get past the scent of freshly turned dirt, Irish spring soap and the sweat of physical effort. “Something smells dead.”

—

“Yeah,” Emilio agreed with a nod, “you should have. If you notice something you’re fighting has a weakness, that’s where you aim. Bum knee, bad shoulder, hole in the armor. Hit them where it hurts, okay?” It’s how he’d learned. Everything had a weak point; Emilio was no different. He’d take a hit to the bad knee if it meant Nora learned how to better protect herself, would happily accept any kind of momentary pain she might doll out to him — either accidentally or intentionally — if it meant she was safe.

As she went to retrieve the knife she’d thrown, Emilio pulled one from his own pocket and fiddled with it absently. He wasn’t planning on using it in this session, but he was bad at sitting still. His hands needed something to do, and while he’d usually default to twisting his wedding ring, he’d taken it off for tonight. Half for fear of losing it, half to make sure Nora wouldn’t catch him playing with it and ask about it. “We can set up some targets,” he offered, “work with that.”

He heard her creeping up behind him and smiled faintly to himself, letting her approach. He figured he’d sweep her legs out from under her when she got close enough, but he did commend the effort. But before he could move, she stopped, sniffing the air. “My nose isn’t as good as yours, kid,” he reminded her. “And we’re in a graveyard. Lots of things smell dead.” But, as he said it, there was that familiar shiver down his spine, that old clench to his stomach. Ah. “Good nose. Something is coming. Here.” He retrieved a stake from his pocket, handing it over. “You’ll probably have more luck with this, depending on what it is. Stick with me, okay?” He wouldn’t throw her to the wolves, even if it was what his mother would have done to him.

—

So much for the sentiment of not going for the weakness while training. Next time the knee was hers. Meant violently. Nora nodded at his instructions, a new idea forming in her mind. Next strike she could cover her movements with an illusion. Illusion her would go one way while the real her would go the other. That could be a fun little trick. Nora was bristling with excitement, ready to test out the theory. “Yeah, targets would be good.” There were enough knives laying around Axis it was a surprise he didn’t have targets to throw them at anyway.

Nora’s nose remained in the air for a minute until the scent got close enough, she could smell it without assistance from the breeze. Pride blossomed in her as Emilio praised her for noticing and handed her a stake Nora put Vampire back into her pocket and grasped the stake in her hand. Emilio was never getting it back, she wondered if he knew that the moment he handed it over. “Right. Stick with you.” Nora stated, as if she would have done it if he hadn’t said it. Which she wouldn’t have. She would have thrown herself forward with no consideration of any of the training they’d just been doing. Because at the core of it, she was young and reckless.

Now Nora felt truly battle ready. One hand on a steak, one hand on a knife, ready for whatever was going to come. Nora wondered if it would be an elder vampire. That had been the last vampire Emilio had taught her about. Now that she thought about it, he never did explain all those vampires with those long and complicated names. Wait, was Emilio a bad teacher? No. He probably just forgot. There was always something happening. Like someone getting cursed and almost dying. Nora shoved the thoughts out of her head, focused on what was coming. Her body was tense, ready for a fight. A familiar silhouette reached her eye line, and all tension dropped from her body. “It’s just a ghoul.” Nora grumbled. Disappointed, because the last one she’d seen killed itself without any help from her or Thea. Well. A little help. More started popping up around them. “A lot of ghouls.” Nora amended.

—

Training was useless if you didn’t treat it with the same ferocity you would a real fight. That was what his mother always said, her reasoning for the brutality in her methods. If Rosa stabbed Emilio because he wasn’t fast enough to avoid it, whose fault was it? Would he expect an undead monster to go easy on him because he was a child, because he was slow? If Edgar broke his arm because he hesitated, who had made the mistake? Of course, Emilio would hold back with Nora… but that didn’t mean Nora ought to hold back with him. If anything, it should make her more brutal. “I’ll find some. Branches or something, I don’t know.” No way in hell would he shell out money for real targets.

Or they could just settle for the moving kind. Whatever was coming at them in the graveyard would make for good practice, considering Emilio was there to ensure things didn’t get too dangerous. He could let Nora take on whatever was here, and he could step in if things looked bleak. His mother had never done that for him, would have berated him for doing it for someone else, but he thought it was the best course of action. He could train Nora without letting her get hurt. He had to be able to do that.

As they moved, following Nora’s nose and Emilio’s senses, he took note of the shape ahead of them. A ghoul. He thought of Nora in the graveyard, the morning he’d found her before it was light out sitting by a statue and mourning the fact that she’d killed something that was already dead. She’d been so hard on herself for it then, and he carefully glanced over to her now. She looked disappointed. Was she remembering the way she’d felt last time? “You can go back to Axis,” he said carefully. “I can meet you there. This shouldn’t take me long. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”

—

Branches for targets. That would be funny. It would add an odd decoration to their already odd work environment. Nora could paint tiny circles on them to aim at. Already, she could imagine the apartment covered in knife holes from missed throws. That wasn't her problem. It was also probably what the inside of Jeff's apartment looked like. The crypt also wouldn't have that problem. The crypt had nice and sturdy walls made out of stone. Absolutely no way knives would poke holes in those walls. Nora made the mental note to use that in any future arguments about which dwelling was better.

"Four against one?" Nora rolled her neck in a circle, a crack coming from its base. "In this economy?" Her arms raised as she started to stretch them out. Was stretching before a fight necessary? Especially after the two of them had just been sparing? Nora didn't know. But the people in movies always did their little stretches before running into the heat of battle. Nora's eyes flicked down to her hands as she tried to decide which weapon she was attacking. "Is this a knife or a stake fight?" Nora asked, squinting at the nearest ghoul. Remembering the way the last ghoul she'd seen cracked its head open on a headstone, Nora shoved the stake. Another day she would get her first dusting. Was that something to want? If they weren't a spawn they would be a living, breat- maybe not breathing- person, like Metzli. Whatever. Thought for a different time. Today her thoughts were on the ghouls.

Stick with him. Nora reminded herself of the one instruction she'd been given. She could do that, right? Nora unsheathed Slayer. How many ghouls had the knife killed before Emilio gave it to her? A ghoul had circled around them, staring Nora down. Nora stared back at it. She thought they were cool little fellas, with their sharp teeth and funny faces. It was a shame they weren't nice. Nora could probably fit this whole pack in her crypt and they could have all lived there as a happy family. Alas, that was their loss. The ghoul made a feinting sweep at her. Nora raised her knife. Stay close to Emilio, she reminded herself. Follow the one instruction. Oh chingados it. Chingado it? Fuck it. Nora flickered and rippled as an illusionary clone twined out of her. The pair of them rushed the ghoul in tandem.

The tactic worked to confuse the ghoul. It stepped back, tripping as the pair rushed it. As both Nora stabbed their knives at the creature, Nora was disappointed to learn that it was a lot tougher than she'd assumed, the blade scrapping off the tough skin with a harsh sound. "The fuck are these things made out of?" Nora's illusionary double disappeared from existence, as she dropped out of the way of a returning blow. That was the problem with the illusion trick. One of her could hit and the other could only pretend. Nora kicked the ghoul after it missed its blow at her. Thank god her boots came with tough toes because she did not think through the fact that they had equally as tough skin. "God, it's brutal out here."

—

Was he so pathetic that Nora thought he couldn’t handle the fight on his own? Emilio didn’t want her to sacrifice whatever strange morality had made her mourn the ghoul she’d killed just because she thought he was someone who needed protecting. His mother’s voice was a harsh echo in his head, reminding him of all the times she’d berated him for being too soft, too weak, too stupid to be a functional slayer. Nora wouldn’t have felt the need to stay for Rosa, would she? Not for Edgar, not for Victor. Emilio had always been the least valuable of the Cortez children, and now he was the only one left. How disappointed his mother would have been in him. How ashamed.

“Knife,” he said tightly, “but you know this.” She’d killed one before, and he doubted she’d used a stake to do it. If she had, maybe she’d have been less torn up about it. Maybe there was something less scary about killing a monster with a slab of wood than killing it with a shining blade. Maybe it made it hurt less. In any case, Nora didn’t seem to be thinking about that now. She launched herself at the ghoul with all the prowess he’d been working to instill in her, and if he weren’t so worried he might have been proud.

She was quick, at least. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he ducked a blow from his own ghoul, which had come at him the moment it was close enough to snap. He’d fought a thousand of these things before, found them just a step above spawn vampires in terms of entertainment. A slayer’s version of busywork, really — not a huge threat, but not something he wanted around, either.

He was more worried about Nora than he was the ghouls, not because he didn’t think she could handle them but because he was concerned how she’d react when she realized she could. Emilio wasn’t good at big, emotional talks like the one he’d given her in the graveyard that night, didn’t know how to comfort her the way she’d needed comforting. The fact that he’d managed it once had been miraculous. He wouldn’t put money on him being able to do it again.

Shoving his knife through a weak spot in the skin of the closest ghoul’s neck, Emilio kicked the thing back with his good leg and let it fall to the ground. It’d bleed out before it could do any more damage, so he moved on to the next. “You don’t need to be here if you don’t want to be,” he told Nora, careful and uncertain. “I don’t want you to be upset. I can take these on my own.” Four — or, rather, three now that he’d dispatched one — against one wasn’t good odds, even for someone with Emilio’s experience, but he’d chance it if it meant Nora was okay. Physically and emotionally.

—

In Nora's mind, the day Emilio had found her crying in the graveyard was the start of them. The start of her Axis apprenticeship. The start of a friendship. The start of her journey into the supernatural with him as her mentor. In her mind, she forgot the promise that bound her to never speak of Debbie. The words they had exchanged that night hadn't been thinly veiled behind the death of a ghoul that ultimately had meant nothing in the scheme of things. In Nora's mind, Emilio had listened to her story of killing Debbie and had forgiven her for it. He wasn't proud, because Nora didn't want him to be proud. Who could be proud of taking Debbie's life, the life of a girl her own age, who had just as much to live for as Nora? But he'd accepted she'd done it in self-defense, and most importantly he'd still accepted her.

Nora was delusional.

Because that night, Emilio never knew about Debbie. Emilio only knew about the ghoul that the girl was upset about. Now as Nora stabbed a blade into the side ghoul she'd faced, she couldn't even pretend to think of the ghoul she'd hidden behind then. Besides claiming its death as her first victory, and using a photo to torment a stranger who didn't want her to die, it had meant nothing more. When Emilio hit her with the "I don't want you to be upset. I can take these on my own." Nora was left with nothing but confusion.

The ghoul's dark, thick, rancid blood sluggishly pooled onto her fingers and she tore the blade back out of the creature and it fell to the ground. "Upset?" Nora asked him, a question tinting her monotone. "They're trying to kill us, Mimi. Isn't this what I've been training for? Self-defense?" The body collapsed to the ground in front of her, just in time for another ghoul to leap at her. Nora threw herself out of the way, rolling to the ground.

On the ground, Nora got a close-up of the talon-like claws the ghoul possessed. "They are kind of cute," Nora admitted. Scrambling to her feet. A jaw snapped around the air her leg had just been. "It would be nice if they didn't want to kill us." Hadn't Nora given him a picture of her next to one of their dead bodies? Wasn't it weird that he didn't want her to be upset? "Besides, I want to help. I'm your apprentice, right?" The question hung heavy, clear uncertainty in Nora's voice as she asked. She'd never said the word out loud to him before. Worried that he would laugh, and tell her that he was just helping her so she wouldn't be the next dumb kid. And that those two were not the same as being an apprentice. Nora stepped out of the way, a talon swiping where she had once been standing. Maybe these creatures were like her, they relied on fear to feed. The fear was supposed to paralyze their victims and make them harder to catch, or something. Because from where Nora was standing, they seemed pretty useless.

—

It was hard to match up the Nora fighting off ghouls now with the one he’d found in the graveyard those months ago, mourning the loss of something he hadn’t understood. Granted, it was hard to match that kid in the graveyard with the front Nora displayed most days, but right now? She’d been heartbroken over that damn ghoul, had gone on and on about what made a monster a monster. Had Emilio’s lecture about self defense really been this effective? Or the months he’d spent teaching her the difference between a sentient beast and a mindless one? He found that hard to believe. He wasn’t good enough at talking to make that much of a difference, and he knew it.

Maybe it was adrenaline. It was easy to feel okay about something in the moment, when your blood was buzzing and the violence wrapped you up in a tight grip. The after was what stung. Emilio thought of Mexico, of his uncle’s desperate apology and the knife he’d stuck into his gut in response. He hadn’t felt guilty about it in the moment. It wasn’t until days later that it weighed on him, wasn’t until months after that it became all he thought about. He’d never escape that feeling; he didn’t deserve to. But he didn’t want Nora to feel the same. He didn’t want Nora to feel any of the things he felt, didn’t want her to turn out like he had.

It was self defense in the moment. But what would it be when she got home later? What would she think when she was alone in her crypt, when the action died down? Some nights, Emilio swore he woke up with his uncle’s blood still caked beneath his fingernails. Would these damn ghouls haunt Nora’s nightmares the same way? “It is self defense,” he agreed. “It is. You don’t have to feel bad about it. It’s them or you, ¿vale? Like we talked about before. But if you’re not ready, that’s okay, too.”

Was thinking they were cute the beginning of another spiral? She didn’t seem upset when she said it, was willing to acknowledge that the ghouls were trying to kill them even if she seemed to think it would be better if they weren’t. “You are,” he confirmed, “but I worry more about you being okay than I do about this. The training goes as fast or as slow as you need it to. I know you were upset about the ghoul before. It’s okay if you want to stop for the night and go home now.”

—

¿Vale? It was another word that had slipped into Nora's vocabulary recently, taught by Emilio, and repeated for memorization. Okay? But why was he making such a big deal out of this? Of course, it was them or the ghouls. Nora didn't plan on dying, she also didn't plan on letting Emilio die. Despite how often he felt the need to remind her that she couldn’t count on him being around forever, and despite that, he didn’t actually need her help.. Even with his bum knee, he was one of the best fighters Nora knew, maybe second only to Metzli. "Vale,” Nora repeated the word back, the Spanish practiced from late night listening to youtube videos to get the pronunciation down.

“Don't tell me you're going soft on these ghouls." If Nora was a person full of freely given expressions, she might have found it in her to laugh. Instead, she was still staring down the ghoul that was intent on making her his dinner. The joke was on him. There was going to be one person eating well tonight, and it would be Nora. Her stomach let out a long-suffering grumble, as if he hadn’t eaten all day, at the thought. Nora could probably convince Emilio to get them a nice fresh honey-smoked ham after this. A victory meal. That seemed doable.

Then Emilio said the magic words that shattered her delusion. The magic words that reminded her she'd been hired under false pretenses. That he hired a kid crying over a ghoul, and not a kid crying over baby’s first murder, and the life-changing consequences. Hiring a hunter-killer. Because despite telling Nora that she had the right to defend herself, would he really believe that if he knew she’d killed a hunter her own age? Just another kid. The shattering of her reality, the breaking of her heart, the symphony of guilt wracking her, all of it was a distraction. The ghoul got a good swipe. Nora moved, but not in time. Its claws knicked against her arm, ripping her beloved jacket and causing a sting of pain to flutter over her. The scent of her own blood filled her nostrils. "Chingado!" She hoped she was using the word right, wouldn't it be embarrassing to learn a curse word in a different language and use it wrong? Wait, that thought itself was a distraction. An escape down a different path so she wouldn’t have to face the reality staring at her.

There was too much happening at once. Too many moving parts, Nora needed to break them down into sections. She needed to understand them so she could address them. First, start with what was in front of her. A ghoul, droplets of her blood clinging to its left claw. That wouldn't do. Nora ran at the ghoul, it braced, ready to snap at her, she slid under his outstretched claws that were ready to grab her again until she was under his belly. Slayer jammed itself into the belly of the beast as she slide under it. The knife wasn't strong enough to do the dramatic rip down the middle that she wanted. It stuck, heavy in one spot, but she dove it deeper and deeper. The ghoul gave a final heave of breath. Its body, now an empty husk, collapsed all at once on Nora, still laying on the blood-splattered ground under it. It was heavy. A lot heavier than she expected, then again when she'd created that plan she hadn't expected it to land dead on top of her. She hadn’t been planning any sort of escape at all.

Nora started kicking the creature, trying to shove it off her, but it didn’t want to move. Being stuck in one place gave her ample time to deconstruct the other thoughts invading her mind. The second thing to consider, Emilio cared that she cared about ghouls. Emilio, who was trained to fight these things. Emilio who had done her best to understand the crying kid in the graveyard, despite not caring about ghouls. He cared that Nora cared. Warmth filled her. Fondness for her mentor overwhelmed her heart. How lucky was she to have someone that cared? She wondered what her own dads would have done in a similar situation. They had never listened to her beg about not wanting to do a photoshoot. She had never once been met with an “Okay, you can stay home, and we’ll get a different model. You don’t have to do this.” It was always she had to do it. It needed to be done. She needed to consider her future. Didn’t she care about the family legacy? Was this what unconditional acceptance felt like? Before Nora could follow that thought, bask in its warmth, and hold it in her heart forever, it was chased away by guilt.

The third thing to consider. Nora had been lying to Emilio this whole time. That didn't feel great. Was theirs, not a relationship built on honesty? Didn't Nora know that if she ever asked Emilio about something, she would be met with an honest answer to the best of his ability? And she hadn't been giving him the same courtesy? Nora struggled under the ghoul, trying her best to push the heavy creature off her, she didn’t want to lay here with her thoughts, she wanted to be back in the action. Its blood oozed against her, staining her clothes. That really sucked. An extra suck on the sucker punch that was hitting her emotions.

"You know how I told you my best friend is a fae?" Nora asked, she might as well have been talking to the ghoul. She pretended she was talking to the ghoul, instead of admitting she'd been lying this whole time. Her hand came to her side, where it always rested when she thought of the promise that night. The imprint of the scar, easy to trace even if the muscle memory wasn’t ingrained in her. "It wasn't the ghoul. I mean, there was a ghoul. You saw the picture. But it wasn’t the ghoul. But there was a promise." Was that enough? Would he understand she couldn't talk about it? Could he forgive a lie? Could she brush past it? If Nora was good at anything, it was brute force. She could brute force her way past her shameful confession. This wouldn’t be a problem.

"Ghouls are nothing, right?" Nora doubled her efforts against her dead jailor. God, why were they so heavy? Its body was starting to turn to goo. She was going to be so disgusting after this. Nora wasn’t squeamish, she didn’t mind getting dirty, but this was just excessive. Did she have quarters to do laundry? "Childs play. Probably. I don't know. Did you hunt these as a child?" Nora was changing the subject, reaching for something to talk about Emilio. Asking to remain in his life, know about it even. She was always curious about his past. He shrouded himself in so much mystery. So much dramatic mystery. Whatever his pat was, it had fucked him up. "Also, when you're done with that ghoul, do you think you can help me? I.. Well. I made a calculated decision but man am I bad at math. I think I need to start lifting weights.” Emilio had enhanced strength, Nora would have to fight tooth and nail for her own enhanced strength. But she’d do it. To be just like him.

—

She said vale, and a burst of pride went through him. It was stupid, it was nonsensical, but he felt it all the same. Hearing this kid, who cared what he thought and asked him for answers when she was stuck on something, use a word he’d taught her, a word in the language that had lived on his tongue for as long as he’d been aware of language at all…

There was something special about Spanish. His relationship with it was strange and complex and not something he entirely understood, but he knew it was special. It was a contradiction, it was a comfort. It was the language in which his mother had torn him down for his own good, it was the language he had once used to sing his daughter to sleep. Flora’s first words had been in Spanish; her last words must have been, too. This language, it was a part of him in a way English wasn’t, in a way English never could be. And Nora had asked him to teach her. More than that, Nora used what he taught her. She asked because she wanted to know, and she wanted to know, at least in part, because of him. He wasn’t sure anyone else had ever wanted that, had ever cared to that extent.

But there wasn’t much room for thoughts of sentimentality in a fight. There never had been. It was the kind of thing his mother would have berated and punished him for. If you wear your heart on your sleeve, you’ll take a knife to it. Better not to have one at all. It was one of the first lessons he’d learned, one of the ones he’d least wanted to pass along to his daughter. Let her keep her heart. Let Nora keep hers, too. It didn’t matter if it was soft, didn’t matter if it grieved ghouls and inspired sympathy towards men who were little more than sharpened knives looking to cause as much damage to the world as they could before they left it. Let her keep her heart on her sleeve. Emilio would step in and take any knife that came for it, would keep it from being carved to pieces even if it meant throwing his own heart on the knife in its place. His was too far gone to salvage, anyway. Like the rest of him, it was at its most useful when taking damage meant for someone else.

Nora yelled out a curse, another that he’d taught her, and Emilio tensed as the ghoul came at her. He prepared himself to jump in, readied himself to take whatever blow it would cost him to abandon his own fight and jump into hers, and there was something almost funny about that. Growing up in a family of slayers meant he was used to fighting with and providing backup, but backup had looked so different back in Mexico. He’d loved his siblings and he’d known they loved him back, but neither of them would have risked their own life to save his if he bit off more than he could chew. Neither of them would have taken a blow meant for him, even if the blow was a fatal one. You took spare slayers to a fight so that someone would be able to pick up your slack when you fell, not with the hope that they’d keep you from falling to begin with. Rhett might have done it for him, but Rhett was different. The exception to every rule, the only person (until recently) who’d ever seemed to care if Emilio walked away from a fight.

Emilio wasn’t Rhett and he knew it, but he prepared himself to step in anyway. It wasn’t necessary. Nora, with all the practice she’d gotten lately, could hold her own. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she slid under the ghoul, heart in his throat as her knife found a home. For a moment, he feared it wouldn’t be enough. He knew she needed better knives, sharper ones, ones more designed for this sort of thing, but he also knew she likely wouldn’t accept them. Giving her an iron knife wasn’t a bad idea, but given her friendly relationship with the fae she’d mentioned in the past, he got the feeling she wouldn’t like having it around. And she could manage with what she had; this was proof enough of that.

The ghoul fell, and Nora didn’t roll away quickly enough to keep it from falling on her. Emilio watched frantically, not releasing the breath he held in his chest until the moment she began to move beneath it. He knew, logically, that she was fine. The ghoul hadn’t gotten another blow in before she’d delivered the killing one, hadn’t been fast enough to leave her with anything worse than claw marks in her arm. He knew that. But he needed more than that, sometimes. Knowing wasn’t always enough. Sometimes, Emilio needed to see it, too. He needed visual proof. He needed tactile proof, too, sometimes, needed to touch something to know it was real. He couldn’t always trust his own eyes; that was evident enough by the way the streets of Wicked’s Rest sometimes flickered and turned into the streets of Mexico when there was blood on his hands, when someone he cared about was in trouble, when a kid in a crowd looked a little too much like Flora or when a woman laughed in a way that reminded him of Juliana.

But Nora was speaking, tone characteristically flat and monotonous in a way that told him she was fine. If he listened closely enough, he could hear her heartbeat, too. He focused on the ghoul he was fighting as she spoke, ducking a swipe of its claw. “Your friend is fae. Yes, you told me.” He was hopeful that this friend of hers was kind enough not to trap her in any binds, though it was still a little hard to be trustful. There was a reason why Emilio watched his words even among his friends; it was impossible to know, sometimes, whether or not someone was putting on a front.

And then Nora continued, spoke of how the thing she was mourning in the graveyard that night wasn’t a ghoul at all. Emilio’s brow furrowed, and he dodged another swipe from his ghoul before growing bored enough of the fight to stick his knife into the side of its head and drop it. A new silence filled the graveyard as the gears in Emilio’s head turned, rotating the new information she’d given him around and around. There was a promise. So her friend had bound her after all, and there was something she couldn’t talk about. She’d used the ghoul as a catalyst, a substitute for something else. Something she’d been mourning in a graveyard, something she’d spoken about with grief and regret and guilt and —

Oh.

The realization hit him all at once. There was a ghoul, and she had killed it. But that wasn’t what she’d been mourning the night he found her, the night their dynamic shifted from one of a surly detective trying to keep an annoying kid from getting herself killed into whatever it was they had now. There was a ghoul, and she’d killed it.

But there was something else, too.

Immediately, his mind was flooded with questions he knew she couldn’t answer. What was it and what happened and what did you do and are you okay? The last one felt surprising, somehow, as if it wasn’t a question he wanted to ask her all the time, as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind at all most days, beating in his chest like a mantra. Are you okay, are you okay, are you okay. He had a feeling he knew the answer to it right now, and he had a feeling it wasn’t the answer he might want it to be. You didn’t kill something without feeling the blood on your hands for the rest of your life. You didn’t feel that regret in pieces. You couldn’t.

Slowly, he moved towards her. Lifted the dead ghoul off of her, cast it aside. He looked at it for a moment, brow furrowed as he processed the new information. “I was probably six,” he offered quietly. “Maybe younger. Used to lock me in a shed with them, you know? Here’s a knife, here’s a ghoul. Figure it out or don’t, but don’t make a mess.” He offered Nora a hand to pull her to her feet. “You good? Your arm?”

—

Emilio’s confirmation peppered the air before her confession. Then the words were out there, in the universe, on display for a smart detective to put together. They faded into the night, the only sound left behind was the single ghoul. The lone survivor from a pack of four, culled down by two people who didn’t even extend the courtesy of giving them their full attention in their final moments. Nora could hear the growls and snarls as it challenged her mentor. Ex-mentor? Maybe.

Thump.

The final sound of the ghoul’s life was its body hitting the ground. Death’s old friend, his drinking buddy, delivered one more life into its grasp. Silence swelled in its place. The moment between seconds expanded into minutes, into hours, until it seemed to stretch into a century. All the while Nora had convinced herself that Emilio would leave. While Nora was trapped under the ghoul, he would rid himself of the murderer, annoyance, and problem. He would use this confession as a reason to replace her with someone who didn’t lie to him. Honesty was what made their team work, it was the promise he had made her. It was important.

Footsteps.

The familiar and comforting scent of Irish Spring Soap, alcohol, and cigarettes approached. Time collapsed in on itself, it must have only been two seconds and a racing mind. The weight that had held her in place was lifted and tossed aside like it was nothing. God, she really was going to need to work extra hard if she wanted to catch up strength wise. Fuck. She could have used the bear. Why hadn’t she shifted. Instead, she’d let herself appear like a weak burden who couldn’t solve a problem. A burden and a murderer, was there anything worse to wish on somebody?

Emilio’s hand offered her help. It was calloused and in desperate need of lotion. Nora’s hands were dirty, dirt and goo from the ghoul packed under her nails. All of her was a ghoulish mess. Sick. And not in the way she normally encompassed the word. Nora tried to brush herself off, but it ended in a gross concoction of the graveyard dirt, ghoul blood and ghoul decomposition smearing over her jacket and across her overalls. It was a losing battle, Nora accepted her defeat and gave up. It was time to face her other losing battle. Time to face Emilio.

Nora’s eyes searched for his. Searched for the gaze that surely held the condemnation she knew she deserved. Was it the self-hatred in her that wanted that? Because surely Emilio had never given her any reason to suspect that he couldn’t be okay with a confession she couldn’t confess to if he understood the promise that bound her. But logic always seemed so elusive when it came to Debbie and the actions of that night. Would she ever be done punishing herself for protecting her friends? A crime, that by all rights, belonged placed at the foot of Debbie’s grave. Because if she hadn’t chosen to kill that night, she would have never been killed in return. The five girls would have entered the grocery store, had their breakfast club moment, and left. No harm. No promise. No murder.

There wasn’t hatred in Emilio’s gaze. There wasn’t the condemnation she was begging for as punishment for her crimes. There wasn’t betrayal over a lie about a ghoul. There wasn’t even annoyance that he had to come help her. Because Emilio had never exhibited any of those emotions towards her. Well, maybe annoyance, but the case of Debbie lived so firmly in her mind that she couldn’t get out of it. In Emilio’s eyes was worry, realization and understanding. Two out of the three she knew she didn’t deserve, but all made her feel unfairly safe.

“Six?” His parents had chosen to put their six year old against ghouls? Six with a ‘figure it out or don’t?’ He’d mentioned something about his mother before, something about her being tough and dead. It wasn’t coming to mind at the moment. But how could anyone ask a six year old to do that? “Six?” Nora repeated the age. Her voice did a good job at keeping her monotone. It didn’t betray the quiver in her throat. It didn’t acknowledge the scratching behind her eyes. Her eyes were the betrayers. A tear, one singular droplet, manifested where it wasn’t wanted. A show of emotion that always displayed itself around the memory of Debbie.

Nora lurched forward, arms wrapping themselves around Emilio, face pressed into hiding. This was an unprecedented action. This was an attempt to hide the emotion brewing around her while trying to express all the words she never had words for. This was a copy of the relief and love Cass had shown her in their hug, and the gratitude and support Van had given in their hug. It was only one tear, but the tear held the weight of the world with it. It cried for Debbie, her lies, the anxiety of the moment. It also cried for the six year old who’d been locked in a shed with monsters, who had still grown up to be the kindest, smartest and most reliable person Nora had ever met.

“Está bien, mi brazo está bien.” The question had been asked a lifetime ago or a moment ago. Time wasn’t working in the graveyard tonight. Except for a light sting across her arm, she could have forgotten it’d been hurt at all. “Oh. My bad.” Because she’d still been hugging him, when the most contact the two of them had shared were a pat on the arm or a shoulder bump. Nora detached herself, looking away as if she was examining the bodies of the decomposing ghouls. “Good job with yours.” Nora told him, like she was the mentor, like she wasn’t the one who’d been stuck under. “Guess training since you’ve been six pays off, right?” Nora’s hands slipped into her pockets, fingers fidgeting with whatever junk they found in there.

“Do hunters have a clean up protocol? Something to keep the norms from finding out?” Nora paused for a beat. “Norms. Normals. You know, the people who don’t know anything. Do we have a name for them? Civvies? But that’s military talk, and fuck the military. I ain’t no bootlicker.” Nora knew she was rambling to cover up her faux paus. “I’m assuming we don’t want them to find out about ghouls?” How they didn’t find out about anything in this town was beyond her. Behind every door was a new supernatural creature waiting to eat someone or something. Nora pulled out one of her lighters. “Please tell me it's arson.”

—

There was something reflected in her eyes when he finally pulled that ghoul off her, something in the way she paused. She was looking at him and, to anyone else, her face would seem just as blank as it always was. A carefully curated mask, painted on so carefully and painstakingly that there wasn’t a crack to be found. Would Emilio recognize the seams if he didn’t have his own mask that he put on every morning? Would he see through the blankness if not for the way she looked so much like the scared, anguished kid he’d found in the graveyard that night?

She was good at the mask, she was so good at it. But there was something reflected in her eyes, and Emilio recognized it. He’d seen it in the mirror more times than he could count.

If anyone knew what it was like to hate yourself wholeheartedly, it was Emilio. How many times had he bore his chest to a knife and begged the person holding it to push it between his ribs? How many mornings had he opened his eyes to find himself disappointed at the sunlight streaming through the window, grieving the fact that he’d woken up? Emilio knew what it was to look at yourself and see nothing worth being. He knew how it felt to hate yourself so entirely that the idea of someone else loving you felt almost wrong, like you were pulling one over on them somehow. And he hated seeing that reflected in Nora’s eyes now, hated knowing that she felt the same kind of things that had driven him to recklessness so often that his mind was almost forced to call it what it was.

He didn’t know what she did. He had an idea, of course — strangely, he thought of Ren, showing up at his apartment just a little while before he found Nora and recounting a story of killing a warden that had been about to kill her. But while Ren had been able to share the details of her tragedy, Nora was bound against it. He didn’t know the details of what Nora had done, and he probably never would. But he could guess. He could guess what she’d been through, could make an assumption about people like him and the lengths they’d go to when they thought they were right. In another life, where things had gone differently, she could have been sitting in front of some other man, covered in dirt and grime, and recounting a story of an angry slayer with a limp who she’d had to kill before he killed her. In another world, in the cruelest of them, Emilio might carry a silver blade and tell stories about the bear he’d killed with it.

He tried not to think of either of them now, tried to focus only on the world that existed in front of him — the one where Nora sat on the ground, looking up at him with wide eyes and a secret she couldn’t share. The one where he loved her anyway, even if that love wasn’t a thing he knew how to put to words anymore. Even if he never had to begin with.

She seemed a little horrified at the revelation that he’d been fighting ghouls since he was six, and he decided not to tell her that ghouls weren’t the first thing he’d fought. The Cortezes started their children off young, took pride in it. He was taught how to kill the least dangerous monsters first, the ones that often didn’t need killing at all. And he wondered, sometimes, what that had been for. Was it to get his body accustomed to the movements, to teach legs still learning how to walk that they needed to fight, too? Or was that a more psychological level of training, a way to turn off whatever part of a person’s brain fought against such things before it had ever had time to form at all?

He’d never thought his upbringing was odd until he’d been expected to raise his daughter the same. He still struggled, sometimes, thinking it was wrong for him to have been raised that way, because Emilio had probably deserved it. Emilio was too soft and too brutal, too quiet and too loud. Emilio was a thousand terrible contradictions wrapped up in a single irredeemable package, and nothing like that could ever deserve to have anyone decent grieve for it.

But here was Nora, grieving it anyway. Brave and brash and softer than she’d let anyone see, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that it might have hurt if he’d let it. He dropped his hands, patting her back carefully.

She was still grieving something, just as she had been in that graveyard the night they’d gone from whatever it was they were before to whatever it was they were now. She was still mourning it. The difference, he thought, was that now, he could mourn it with her. Every weight got a little bit lighter when you had someone to help you carry it. And Emilio was strong enough to carry a hell of a lot of weight.

She spoke again, Spanish once more, and it was so hard not to think of the daughter he’d lost. It was so hard not to think of the way she’d fall and scrape her knee only to jump up and utter the same words, like she was afraid to say anything else. ¡Está bien, papi! He ached, and he was no longer sure what he was aching for. Was he grieving what he’d lost, what Nora lost, what his daughter lost? Was he grieving all three at once? And did it matter, at the end of the day? Grief was grief. There no matter the reason, heavy regardless of what it was for. He could grieve one or two or all three at the same time and it wouldn’t matter. The grief would never feel any lighter.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, though he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her about the hug or the ghoul or the murder or the childhood he’d never had or all of it. “It’s all right, kid.” He looked back to the ghouls, dead and decomposing long before he and Nora came across them but doing it quietly now. He let out a quiet huff of air as Nora began to ramble. When she finished, he only nodded. “Sure. It can be arson. What do you say, kid? Want to light them up?”

Yeah. They’d be all right.

#chatzy #chatzy: emilio #into the mentorverse

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olivyh · 2 years ago

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obey me brainrot again guys ;;;;

Spoilers for lesson 16 below!

Tw: manipulation, violence

I was thinking abt different ways that the main Obey me plot could have gone,,, mostly with the thought of another human exchange student! Imagine if there were two (both mortal, sorry solomon) humans, and both lived in the HoL (pretending that there are separate rooms for both of them,,, or they share the same room maybe?

Except one of the humans, the "chosen one" (i.e. the one who has the same abilities and lineage as og!MC), is evil, and power-hungry. Like,,, manipulative and acts all sweet and caring but is really on a mission to sacrifice the other mc (for immortality? power?). And, of course, the evil mc meets Belphie in the attic and sees right through his lies, promising to essentially sacrifice the other human to him, give him someone to get his aggression out on. In exchange? He would make a pact with them, giving them more power.

But sadly, the other human, the good mc follows everything, does everything by the book. They stay out of everyone's way and listens to every single one of the rules that Lucifer told them.

Evil mc puts on a display of acting kind and friendly to get the pacts from the brothers and to gain their friendship while also acting sweetly to kind mc. Kind mc is none the wiser and also gets close to the brothers, but without the powers of the pacts. Or...

Evil!Mc forces them to stay away from the brothers, either through trickery (telling kind!MC that they're demons and trying to betray them) or empty threats/magic

Here's where the story somewhat branches off... imagine if one of the brothers (let's say the one closest to them, or Mammon, since he's always around them and he's perceptive) picks up on the little clues. He notices how evil mc looks at kind mc, the sudden bouts of violence against kind mc, the teases that seem to be a little too serious. If he's close enough with them, maybe he'll make a pact with kind mc out of concern for them (will they take him up on his offer? considering how manipulative evil mc is, could they really believe a demon?).

In the end, evil mc makes them follow them into the attic, where they're killed (or almost killed) by belphie and they almost get another pact, until Belphie tries to attack them and exposes their plan to the rest of the brothers; calling humans monsters and asking how anyone could betray one of their own kind, one of their "friends" over something like a pact. Evil mc could either play the innocent card, or... they get exposed. Now the brothers have one dying exchange student, and another in jail (or somewhere else until Diavolo figures out what to do).

From there idk where it would go honestly. Maybe evil mc gets away and the brothers have to learn how to protect this other human? They still have to deal with the information about their younger sister, but now they're learning that her descendant is evil. Belphegor isn't as kind to the nicer mc (bc I feel as though a lot of his affections post lesson 16 was solely due to the information about lilith.). Will he continue to try to hurt them?

This is all just little scraps from my midterm-burnt brain, so a lot of it might not make sense, but I might write a fic on this later... (if not this, then a different OM!AU)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #om #obey me au

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maris-snack-shop · 1 year ago

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Here’s a little lesson in trickery!

Throws candy at Mari

Thanks!

#mari's snack shop #omori ask blog #ask blog #ofa #omori food administration

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dballzposting · 2 years ago

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Wah hoo Yamgeta week!! Here my contribution, while I don't think the 2 of them would have kids, I think the idea is funny.

Their name is Dim-sum and they're an ankle biter. I feel like Yamcha would wind up basically a single parent to a mini Vegeta. Their hair looks like if Vegetas hair was a mullet

Anon you are genius . . .

I cant believe that vegeta gets yamucha mpreg :/ . It's kind of like the time that he got Bulma pregnant and then fucked off. Only this time he never comes back.

For the sake of their marriage Vegeta and Bulma just Don't Talk about the affair and the bastard spawn. But they do send child support money.

TBH I think that Yamucha should just put the child outside and let the wolves raise it FR.

It's a shame that Vegeta has perverted his bloodline with not one but two bastard children but whatever. And I know that Yamucha puts that damn thing on a leash and brings it to Z Team get-togethers and it's always awkward and Bra and Trunks don't know what to make of their half-sibling and it's weird how the fetted thing looks so much like Vegeta in the face like ... It's a rotten beast.

And eventually despite it all Vegeta gets so worried about the child's Saiyan blood and the concept of wasted potential so he starts training it much in the manner of how Piccolo coldly trained Gohan when he was young.

And this little thing is a weirdo like Yamucha feeds it cereal and boar bones and alcohol mixers and not much else, and it sleeps curled up like a cat and barks like a dog. And they're an incredibly lively fellow and is full of love but it also becomes clear over time that they're a big fan of senseless manipulation and lying and trickery because it's funny. BUT ROTTENNESS BE DAMNED .. THIS KID CAN FIGHT ! Vegeta doesnt think so becasue he's trying to push the lessons of Discipline and Warrior Honor while the kid just wants to go wild, so they grow up with a complex about being weak.

Thank you for participating in Yamgeta Week 2023! (Jan 1 - Jan 7, with respect to personal timezone)

#dballz posting #dballz asks #YamgetaYaoi

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sl-newsie · 1 year ago

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Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Ch. 17: Lessons In Love

The next morning I decide to not wallow in sadness in my dorm and immediately join some of the VKs for breakfast in the dining hall.

“Chad tattled on me- he turned in my mirror! But it’s ok, because I still got a B+ without the mirror! Me and Doug are going to study later!” Evie says proudly.

“Oh really?” I say with a hint of mischief. “Doug’s starting to grow on you, huh?”

The blue-haired VK laughs it off. “Haha, maybe. He’s nice, and really sweet-”

“I’m sure Magica could say the same thing about Carlos,” Mal smirks. “Any chance you two’ll be an official couple?”

They must still think I’m spelled. I got to play- ugh. A dumb blonde. Just like Mother.

“Maybe! He’s super gracious, and really cute! Do you think he’ll ask me out?”

“I don’t know.” Evie stands up and starts ushering Mal out of her seat. “But right now we’ve got to get Mal ready for her date.”

I’m taken aback. “Really? Today?”

“Yes! Mal asked me out on a- date,” Mal says with distaste. “And never been gone on one before, Evie’s helping me dress properly.”

I follow them out and to their dorm, thinking about any precautions I could take to keep Ben safe from any trickery Mal might have planned for him. It’s my job to protect him, not only as Royal Advisor but as an old friend. If anything happens to Ben I’d never forgive myself, so what can I do?

“Uh, guys? What exactly are you doing for the date? Anything fun?” Why must I degrade my intellect? This is so humiliating!

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Mal looks bored out of her mind as Evie starts applying blush.

“You could at least be nice to him, Mal. He’s a nice guy. And, fair warning-” I step forward and hold up a flaming hand. “You hurt him, I do the same and worse to you. You might be able to fool him with your love spell, but not me.” Both Evie and Mal’s jaws drop in surprise, but I keep going. “I’m not going to make-believe as some ditsy blonde and pretend this is all normal. Be good to him, got it?” I point a flaming warning finger just as there’s a knock on the door. “I will leave you to your date, Mal. Don’t mind me, third-wheel witch coming through-”

The door opens and reveals Ben, who ignores me and smiles at Mal. “For the first time I understand the difference between pretty and beautiful.”

I gag. “Too sweet! Too sweet! Must- find- wickedness!” I stumble out into the hallway and-

“Ah!”

And I bump right into Carlos!

“Hi Carlos!” My face brightens.

“Um, hi Magica! Um… You’re not busy, are you?”

“Not for you, dear.” I poke his nose. Why did I do that?!

Carlos sways a little. “Oh- gosh. Um, would you- would you maybe want to go for a walk- or or something?”

I must be dreaming, because I think Carlos just asked me to take a walk with him.

“Yes! I’d love to!” Does he still think I’m spelled by the love potion?

Ben shuts the door before Evie or Mal can warn Carlos, leaving me to pretend to be- in love with him? But I already love him. So does that mean he’ll think it’s all fake? This is too complicated!

“Oh! Ok then, I was thinking maybe you pick the spot since you know more about Auradon than I do?” Carlos says while shuffling his feet.

I really feel sorry for him, because I know he’s just as awkward as I am about this love spell situation. So I try to make him less tense.

“So you want a more in-depth tour? Sure thing, Freckles.”

The new nickname makes Carlos relax a little, and we start walking towards the school gardens. Just keep focused, steady breathing. After all, he knows this isn’t real love, right?

“So where are we going?” Carlos asks.

“First off,” I start explaining when we get to the hedges surrounding the school. “This school is, in fact, a prison of sorts. You’ve seen how lovely the people can be here, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. So once in a while I need to find a place to be by myself, or just to practice magic without Ben knowing. Behold!” I snap my fingers and the hedge parts away to reveal a small walkway lined with trees. “My passage to the outside world! Join me, if you dare!” I hold my hand out.

At first Carlos looks skeptical, but then a joyful grin spreads across his face and he grasps my hand.

“Sure will, Enchantress. Lead on!”

Grateful for his enthusiasm, I lead Carlos down the darkened path while he keeps looking at the wildlife as if it’s made of gold. He doesn’t say much, just an occasional sound of astoundment. It makes me wonder if he’s ever even seen trees up close before.

“Is this still on school grounds?” He asks in a dazed voice.

“Technically yes. It’s supposed to only be a small patch of shrubs and a few pines, but I used a memory spell and hexed it to be like Sherwood Forest. Just, you know… A little piece of home I can go to when I want to be alone.” We get to the end of the woods, where there’s a hedge wall marking the edge. “This is as far as I can go without breaking school policy.”

“You don’t seem too keen on curses, right?” Carlos observes. “Only hexes, spells, and jinxes.”

I’m surprised at his keen observation. Normally people don’t think about the different ways of magic except defining it as either good or wicked.

“Hexes, spells, and jinxes are universal ways of magic used by all magical beings. Cursing is a type of magic that is used for evil, and is almost always permanent. Once you’ve cursed something or someone, there’s no turning back unless the curse wears a time sentence or you can conjure a counter-curse correctly. But even so I’ve heard of cases where counter-curses have gone terribly wrong.”

Carlos nods his head and keeps looking around the forest, appearing to be fascinated by the roses I’ve placed out.

“So no one knows about here?”

“Yup. It lets me practice magic without any prying eyes.”

Carlos gets a confused look, and for a moment I fear I’ve said too much. Never overtell, Magica. You can always add, you can never take back.

“Magica… I know you haven’t had the best luck with friends, but maybe you can stop hiding your magic and start showing them how good you are?” I try to protest but Carlos grabs my hand. “I mean, your magic is just- wow! You’re so talented, and yet all people see it as a way to fix their problems. But you’re too nice to be cruel. You deserve more, Magica.”

He… he’s not scared of me? Doesn’t think I need to be controlled? God, Carlos, where have you been all this time? Everyone’s always thought of my powers as flickering flames needing to be tamed in order to prevent a raging inferno.

“Carlos, you’re really sweet to say that. B- But you have to understand that I- I-” I’m the daughter of a witch! “I’m different. I’ll never be like- Just, please understand that I can’t.”

“But magic is allowed here! It’s not like you’re on the Isle where you can’t even have a hot meal, let alone turn invisible or fly! And you said it yourself, people here can be difficult. Is the hope of halfwitted friendship worth downplaying your talents?”

My heart starts beating like a marching drum, but not from anger. Fear.

“Believe me, Carlos. When it comes to people like you or me, friends come in short supply. And before you say anything, yes, I know I didn’t grow up on the Isle and will never be able to fully understand how hard you guys have it. But that doesn’t mean life in Auradon is a peach either. At least you VKs were encouraged to be confident and cruel, whereas I was taught to be nice and let people torment me. Do you know Wendy Darling?”

“Yeah I’ve heard of her.”

“Her daughter Willow has always had it out for me just because I was friends with Ben, because ‘an antisocial weirdo shouldn’t have the privilege to associate with royalty.’ She started to suspect I was a witch, though I don’t know how. Year after year she’d find new ways to be a painful thorn in my side. But my father always told me to control my temper and keep my magic hidden.”

“But you’re so good at it. Surely you practiced?”

“Yes, I practiced in the woods away from prying eyes. But both father and I feared that if I revealed my powers then I would be taken away.”

I continued to tell him about how the villagers had turned against me after I’d set the building on fire, expecting him to laugh or make fun of my mishaps. But he doesn’t. He never interrupts, he sits and watches me with a serious face. When I’m finished, he looks to the ground and shakes his head.

“Magica, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I guess… Being a VK means your mind’s set on an island figuratively and literally. We thought that you guys here are all one and the same, but we’re wrong.”

“People in Auradon pretend to ignore the strange and unusual, but deep down they alway hide resentment under a fake smile. I’m starting to come to terms that you don’t alway need people to like you. Friends are overrated anyway.”

“But you like me- um, the VKs, right?”

“I do. I really do, Freckles. Although Mal can be a tad snarky at times she’s still not as bad as Aurdey.”

“Tell me about it.” Carlos rolls his eyes.

“And Evie’s helped me redesign my fashion style, Jay’s encouraged my shenanigans even after Ben’s said to put it all behind me-”

Carlos smirks. “Still running a-muck.”

“A-muck! A-muck! A-muck, a-muck, a-muck!” When I’ve run out my wild spree I put a hand to my chest in an attempt to calm down. “Told you that word triggers madness. Anyways… Lastly, you’ve always been a true friend, Carlos. You actually want to listen and care because you’re courteous, not because you’re looking to gain something. Mal wants my magic, Evie wants to use me as a fashion model, Jay wants my whitty ideas. Everyone who’s come close to being my friend has always wanted to use me for something, but not you. And I thank you for that.”

Carlos’ POV

Oh God… This is making me feel worse! Magica’s telling me I’m the only one who’s never tried to use her, all while she’s under a love spell. But if I tell her the truth then she’ll hate me… is it better to let her keep thinking I wouldn’t betray her?

“If… If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here.”

The pink-haired Enchantress smiles kindly. “Thanks, Freckles. It’s nice to know I’ve at least got one friend.”

It’s like every word is digging me a deeper hole of guilt.

I try to change the subject. “Should we head back? I think FG said something about a surprise.”

Magica’s face falls. “Oh, really? I wasn’t notified… Maybe Ben forgot?”

Magica’s POV

We sneak back through the hedge and into the school garden, double-checking to make sure we’re alone. Carlos leads the way to the library, where we find FG and the other VKs waiting for us in front of a computer. I’ll have to ask Ben how the date went.

“Hey, Carlos!” Evie waves.

Jay smirks at me. “Hiya, trixie! Come to meet our parents?”

“Parents? What dost thou mean?”

Fairy Godmother tilts her head at my unusual tongue but proceeds to set up her computer. “I’ve arranged a surprise conference with the VKs and their parents on the Isle. Ben came up with the idea yesterday and I thought it was a thoughtful gesture.”

So, I guess being Royal Advisor means nothing?

I frown at Carlos. “Oh, like a Zoom meeting or something? Do your parents know how to work that?”

He shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out. I’ve never seen mom operate a tv remote, much less a computer. You, um… I guess you wouldn’t want to meet her, huh?”

I shake my head. “I’m grateful for the kind gesture, but I shall have to politely decline.”

Carlos gives my hand a squeeze. “I don’t blame you.”

In seconds, the electronics whizz to life and the screen fizzles on to show the VKs’ parents. I must admit they’re less… intimidating than how I imagined them. At most they seem like the type of parents I’ve seen squabble at parent-teacher conferences.

I try to keep a low profile and stand back next to FG, but my pink hair and unique clothes don’t exactly help me go unnoticed.

“Ooh! A new witch! Who is she?” Maleficent asks Mal.

Evie’s mom is all giddy too. “She looks familiar… but I can’t put my finger on it….”

Please don’t put your finger on it, don’t put anything on it!

Now a lady with puffy hair and black-and-white speckled furs puts her face to the camera. Cruella de Vil- Carlos’ mom.

“Carlos! Is that a dog? He looks the perfect size for earmuffs!”

Her son, however, has a different opinion. “He’s the perfect size for a pet! I love him and he loves me! And FYI, your dog is stuffed! So give it a rest!”

“Ooh, burn!”

Jafar starts the villains bickering and it all ends with Fairy Godmother pulling the plug. The saddened headmistress looks at the VKs, who’ve all grown dreary faces.

“I’m so sorry.”

Mal tries to ignore her and says everything is fine, but I can tell from the pain behind Carlos’ eyes that everything is indeed not fine. Jay’s got a worried look on his face, Evie keeps checking her reflection, and Carlos is clutching onto Dude for dear life.

Once Fairy Godmother has walked on, I turn to the group with a determined look.

“Don’t be worried. No one can harm you here, no matter how hard your parents try.”

“You don’t know our parents, Magica!” Mal yells with her arms tensed.

“You might think that you have to prove yourselves to them or live up to their evil standards, but I promise that here you never need to!” I try to comfort her, but she just shakes her head furiously and storms out, followed by Evie and Jay.

“She’s right, Magica.” Carlos is still clinging to Dude. “Our loyalty to our parents will always come first. We can’t change it.”

I approach him slowly and wrap my arms around him and his faithful dog.

“I’m so sorry, Carlos. You shouldn’t have to go through with this. Love comes in all sorts of lessons, whether it be through parenting or heartbreak. What matters is what we choose to learn from it.”

And what I’ve learned is that life isn’t fair, and that the world can be a very cruel place.

#carlos de vil x reader #carlos de vil #descendants carlos #evie descendants #mal descendants #jay descendants #disney descendants #descendants #ben descendants #audrey descendants #doug descendants #uma descendants #harry hook descendants #binx hocus pocus #hocus pocus #sarah sanderson #winifred sanderson #mary sanderson

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